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XTbe Xaurel Classtcg 
THE 

Merchant of Venice 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



EDITED BY 
FREDERICK MANLEY. 



BOSTON 

C. C. BIRCHARD & COMPANY 

1901 



.hollar' 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cortia Received 

fUL. 18 1901 

COPVHIGHT ENTRY 

CLASS4«@ XXe. N* 
COPY B. 



Copyright, iqoi, 

by 

C. C. BiRCHARD & Company 



Stanbopc iprees 

H. GILSON COMPANY 
BOSTON, U.S.A. 



f n Acmorfam 

W. S. STAFFORD 

WHO DEVOTED THE BEST YEARS OF HIS LIFE 

TO THE INTERPRETATION OF 

SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. 



PREFACE. 

This edition of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice 
is intended, primarily, for use in the class room, and 
therefore I have endeavored, throughout my work, to 
keep constantly in mind the needs of the young 
student. 

I have avoided, as much as possible, the introduc- 
tion of any matter calculated to weaken the interest of 
the student or to interfere with his enjoyment of the 
play as a great work of art, while I have done my best 
to give every aid necessary to the mastery of grammat- 
ical and etymological difficulties, and to provide such 
commentaries as, in my opinion, might enable the 
student to form an appreciative judgment of the play 
as an example of Shakespeare's dramatic art. 

A number of words usually glossed in school texts 
I have allowed to go unexplained, for the reason that 
they may be easily looked up by the students them- 
selves in Webster's Dictionary, and because they are 
treated therein more fully and certainly far more ably 
than I could ever hope to treat them myself. 

I have received help from so many sources in the 
preparation of this work that it is impossible to enu- 



PREFACE 

merate severally all my obligations. I am most deeply 
indebted, however, to Dr. Wm. J. Rolfe, who very 
kindly read part of my manuscript, and gave me the 
benefit of his criticisms. He also made several valua- 
ble suggestions to me with respect to the introduction ; 
and he generously gave me the benefit of his long ex- 
perience as a teacher and interpreter of the master 
poet's plays. 

Next to my obligation to Dr. Rolfe comes my indebt- 
edness to the Variorum Shakespeare of Fumess, a 
work to which I have turned continually for help and 
which, the more I studied it, the more I admired it, 
not only for its accuracy and great scholarship, but 
also for the fine quality of the editor's annotations. 

It also gives me pleasure to acknowledge the interest 
taken in my work by Mr. Edward Howard Griggs, and 
to thank him here for several timely and most helpful 
criticisms. 

It would take too much space to set forth a list of 
all the books upon which I have drawn, and so I have 
contented myself with furnishing the titles of a small 
number only. These, however, are of the first im- 
portance, and some of them (which I indicate by a 
cross, thus t) are works which the student of Shake- 
speare should have by him constantly. 



n 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introduction ix 



Text . 



3 



Notes 119 

Glossary 163 

Bibliography 185 



INTRODUCTION* 



SOURCES OF THE PLOT. 

Concerning the source of The Merchant of Venice 
we have no definite knowledge. Many pages have 
been written upon the subject, and much effort has 
been put forth by scholars of various nationalities in 
their search for the book, or story, or legend, to which 
Shakespeare is indebted for the plot of the present 
drama. The literatures of Europe and Asia have been 
ransacked for whatever might bear a resemblance to 
the poet's comedy ; and the zeal with which the search 
has been conducted has led many students, especially 
those who have lacked the saving grace of humor, 
through countries and times with which, in all likeli- 
hood, Shakespeare was entirely unacquainted. 

In a work like the present, it is impossible to enter 
exhaustively into any one of the many discussions re- 
garding the source of The Merchant, or to set forth, in 
full, any of the rather numerous conjectures that have 
been made about Shakespeare's indebtedness to this 
source or that ; for this book is designed to be used in 
the classroom, and any attempt at a display of antiqua- 



INTRODUCTION 

rian learning would not only be out of place, but would 
defeat the aim of the editor ; . which is, to make the 
study of Shakespeare as interesting as possible to the 
student, and to give him only such assistance as is 
essential to an understanding and appreciation of the 
text. 

The three stories which, in the present play, are so 
skillfully interwoven and so perfectly related, are 
" as old as the hills," and are to be found, with only 
slight variations, in Buddhistic and in Italian literature, 
as well as in the ballads and tales of the French, Ger- 
man, Greek and English peoples. 

The story of the bofid arid the powid of flesh appears 
in the " Cursor Mundi," a collection of tales, secular 
and religious, compiled in Northumbria in the thir- 
teenth century. In the fourteenth century we find it 
in the Gesta Romanorum, a collection of stories writ- 
ten in Anglo-Latin, and translated into English about 
1450. The story of the caskets also appears in this 
collection, and the same story is told in a romance 
called " Barlaam and Josaphat," written in Greek by 
loannes Damascenus, about a.d. 800, and translated 
into Latin before the thirteenth century. In this ro- 
mance the trick of the caskets is employed by a king 
to illustrate to his courtiers the vanity of appearances. 

In the " Confessio Amantis " of Gower (1325?- 
1408) we read of a king who uses the same means to 

X 



INTRODUCTION 

moralize upon the uncertainty of Fortune, and the story 
is likewise told in the ** Decamerone " of Boccaccio. 

In the Gesta Romanorum there is found the tale 
of a Roman Emperor who makes use of the casket 
trick with a view to gaining an estimate of the char- 
acter of the lady who is betrothed to his son. It is 
remarkable that the three caskets used by this Emperor 
have inscriptions almost identical with those given in 
the present play. It would, however, be unwise to 
reason from this that Shakespeare was directly in- 
debted to the Gesta Romanorum for the ground-plan 
of his beautiful sub-plot of the caskets ; for this story, 
and others of a like nature, must have enjoyed a wide- 
spread popularity ; and one may safely believe that 
the tale of the caskets had been used more than once 
by some of Shakespeare's predecessors. 

The story of the bond occurs in a collection of 
romances written by a Ser Giovanni, a notary of 
Florence, about 1378, but not printed till 1558. Here 
we have a Jew of Venice whose hopes of a bloody 
revenge are frustrated by a lady from Belmont; and 
here also we find the sub-plot of the rings. 

In Percy's Reliques there is an old ballad in which 
the bond story is set forth, the Jew in this case being 
named Gernutus, one " who lending to a merchant a 
hundred crowns, would have a pound of his flesh, 
because he could not pay him at the day appointed." 



INTRODUCTION 

Again, in the 95th Declamation of the Orator, by 
Alexander Sylvan, there are passages which so closely 
resemble some of Shylock's speeches in the trial-scene 
that it is difficult not to believe that Shakespeare was 
acquainted with this work, a translation of which 
appeared in 1596. 

The fourteenth tale of Masuccio di Salerno suggests 
the elopement of Jessica. A rich miser figures in it, 
and this miser acts toward his daughter very much as 
Shylock does toward Jessica, keeping her securely 
housed, and exercising the most niggardly economy. 
This daughter, like Jessica, robs her father and is 
carried off by her lover'; and her father, like Shylock, 
is stricken with grief by the perfidy of his daughter 
and infuriated by the loss of his treasure. 

That Shakespeare had read this novellino, and that 
it furnished him with the motif of Jessica's elopement, 
we may doubt, the probability being that he had come 
across it in some old play, or in the work of one of 
his contemporaries. Indeed, we know for certain that 
there was a play produced, some years before Shake- 
speare began his career as a playwright, embodying the 
two stories of the bond and the caskets. This old 
play is mentioned by Stephen Gosson in his School of 
Abuse, published in 1579. Gosson himself was some- 
time a writer of plays, but later in life he came to 
regard playwriting as a most ungodly craft, and even 



INTRODUCTION 

went so far as to call poets, players, and so forth, the 
" caterpillars of a commonwealth." There were some 
plays, however, which Gosson considered tolerable, 
even commendable, and one of these was. The Jew, 
given at the Bull playhouse, and " representing," says 
Gosson, "the greediness of worldly choosers, and 
bloody minds of usurers." By this, no doubt, is meant 
the story of the bond and the device of the caskets : 
hence we are inclined to believe that it was this old 
play to which Shakespeare was indirectly indebted for 
the plot of the Merchant. 

There are some critics who believe that we see in 
Marlowe's Jew of Malta the prototype of Shylock ; that 
in Ithamore, the slave of Barabas, we have the fellow 
of Launcelot Gobbo, and that the situations between 
Marlowe's Jew and his daughter Abigail should be 
compared with those between Shylock and Jessica. It 
is doubtful, however, whether the student will find 
any resemblance between the two plays, other than 
that each has for its central figure a Jew. Nay, we 
may say, with all respect for Marlowe's genius, that 
Barabas is neither Jew, Christian, nor Moslem : he is a 
monstrous mask. Shylock is a human being ; Barabas 
is a demon. Shylock sins through deep, intense pas- 
sion; Barabas sins unnaturally. Shylock suffers, as 
he sins, profoundly ; Barabas siiffers rhetorically. 

As for Ithamore, his slave, having any kinship with 



INTRODUCTION 

honest Launcelot Gobbo — it were as well to talk of 
a resemblance between the grotesque and impossible 
demons of Dore''s pictures and the delightfully human 
peasants of Van Ostade. Launcelot is a good-natured 
fellow, full of quips and fancies and lovably roguish 
ways; but one thinks of Ithamore, not as a creature 
having any counterpart among human beings, but as a 
monstrosity. 

Here is one recountal of his pleasant deeds : 

Barabas. But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ? 
Ithamore. In setting Christian villages on fire, 

Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. 

One time I was an ostler in an inn, 

And in the night-time secretly would I steal 
To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats. 

Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled, 

I strewed powder on the marble stones. 

And therewithal their knees would rankle so. 

That I have laughed a-good to see the cripples 

Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. 

Jew of Malta, Act II., Scene iii. 

The creation of a monster like this was impossible 
to Shakespeare's genius. It is true that in the works 
of the master-dramatist we are sometimes horrified by 
the depths of passion in his characters and by their 
lusts ; by the intensity of their hatreds, and by the 
awful results inevitably consequent upon these: but 



INTRODUCTION 

the horror in us arises from the knowledge that the 
tragedies we behold in the poet's works are lying dor- 
mant in the nature of every man as terrible possibilities, 
and our being trembles in their sensible presence. But 
if we have any sense of humor we are not horrified 
by such a figure as Marlowe's Ithamore ; we are rather 
inclined to smile, and to see in him only a painted 
devil, having no parallel in nature, and fitted to in- 
spire fear only in simple folk or children. Or we are 
disgusted, and turn away from him with loathing. 

Shakespeare's indebtedness to Marlowe, then, so far 
as his characterizations are concerned, may be regarded 
in the same light as man's indebtedness to his brutish 
primeval ancestor ; for if Shakespeare indeed took ad- 
vantage of Marlowe's material, he used it as nature is 
held to have used the ape, and out of something bestial 
and cruel, his Promethian mind created men. 

Marlowe's Jew of Malta was first acted in 1591. 
The Merchant of Venice was probably produced about 
1596, though as to this we cannot be certain. 

Barabas was undoubtedly a great favorite with 
Elizabethan audiences, being the very embodiment of 
the groundling's conception of a Jew, that is, one whose 
sole delight in life was to murder Christians, to poison 
their wells, to drink the blood of Christ on Easter 
night, to lure Christian children into dark places and 
there crucify them, and to destroy Christian rulers. 



INTRODUCTION 

That this last-named charge was not directed by either 
superstition or prejudice of race, but on good and suffi- 
cient evidence, the Londoners of the last decade of the 
seventeenth century would prove, at least to their own 
satisfaction, by instancing the case of the then notorious 
Roderigo Lopez, a Jewish physician, who was hanged 
at Tyburn in the Spring of 1594, having been found 
guilty of an attempt upon the life of the queen. Lopez 
was at one time in the service of Lord Leicester, but 
was afterwards appointed physician to Elizabeth. At 
her court he became known to the Earl of Essex, who 
was at this time nearing the heyday of his power. 
There was then at the court a Portuguese refugee, one 
Antonio Perez, who claimed to be the rightful heir to 
the throne of his country, which, according to his story, 
he was prevented from occupying by King Philip of 
Spain : and as in these days there was little love be- 
tween the Spanish and the English, Perez found in Eliz- 
abeth a ready sympathizer, and was received by her with 
favor. Dr. Lopez, it appears, was master of several 
languages, among which was the Portuguese, and Essex 
engaged him as interpreter to Perez. Lopez was at 
first interested in the pretender, and worked with the 
others to secure to him the restoration of his rights. 
It appears, however, that there was nothing kingly in 
the fellow, and Lopez, undoubtedly a man of strong 
personality and considerable ability, gradually lost in- 



INTRODUCTION 

terest in Perez and his cause, and finally parted with 
him and his patron, Essex. It is said that after this 
he attempted to poison Perez, having been bribed to 
do so by certain hirelings of the Spanish king. It is 
also said that he was importuned to poison Elizabeth, 
which, however, he refused to do. Nevertheless, he 
was arrested by Essex, who had discovered that a plot 
was being laid against the life of the queen, and was 
tortured by that young nobleman into a confession of 
guilt. He was tried at Guildhall and condemned, 
much to the rabble's satisfaction, who fondly believed 
him guilty, and saw in the unfortunate man the incar- 
nation of their superstitions concerning the Jewish 
people. 

Imagine, then, after this Lopez affair, the popularity 
of a play having for its central figure a Hebrew so 
execrable as Barabas. How the pennies of the Lon- 
doners must have flowed into the box-office, and the 
mob struggled into the "yard" of the theater, since 
called the pit, but then a fitting name for the place 
where the crowd herded. There under the heavens (for 
theaters had not as yet got roofs) the crowd swarmed, 
cursing the play or praising it, not always according 
to its merits, swilling beer and cracking nuts, or em- 
ploying them as small ammunition wherewith to strike 
unacceptable actors ; munching apples, gambling at 
cards, and behaving generally like a noisy mob at a 



INTRODUCTION 







Interior of an Elizabethan Theater. 



INTRODUCTION 

fair. And, indeed, fairs and dramatic spectacles were 
still closely associated in the minds of the people, for 
it was on a bare platform, under the open sky, that 
the early actors used to perform, chiefly on fair-days 
and holy-days, with a rustic multitude for audience, 
and the village green for auditorium. 

Seated about the stage, some in their private boxes, 
some on three-legged stools which they have hired for 
the occasion, are the cavaliers, who signify their delight 
by thumping with their swords, and nodded approval 
with their plumed heads. Upon the rushes with which 
the stage is covered, struts the gallant, his silk cloak 
thrown back upon his shoulder while he strokes his 
mustachios, and shows his white and jewelled hand to 
someone whom he is ogling. Near him, with impudent 
stare and loud, rude voice, there is usually a number 
of young bullies, who come swaggering in from the 
Strand. There also may be seen a crowd of cox- 
combs, titled impertinences, pressing upon the actors 
and interrupting the play with their senseless tricks, 
their favorite one consisting in tickling each other's 
ears with rushes taken from the stage. In the midst 
of these people the players strut, sometimes losing 
their cues, the babel is so great, and often coughing 
out their lines, the smoke is so thick and rank. For 
all around them, the gentlemen are puffing the smoke 
of their Trinidad tobacco, and blowing it in rings, in 



INTRODUCTION 

divers fancy ways, each according to his ability, the 
groundlings, or occupants of the " yard," sometimes 
applauding the fanciest smoker. 

We can easily imagine with what greedy delight an 
audience of this kind would receive Marlowe's Bara- 
bas. Indeed, so popular was the Jew of Malta that 
it was presented no less than twenty times between 
the spring of 1594 and the close of that year, a long 
run for a play in those days. Shakespeare and his 
manager, we may imagine, marked with what fanatical 
delight the populace flocked to witness Marlowe's 
play, and perhaps it was this hunger of the Londoners 
for Jewish characters on which they might feed their 
hate, that prompted Shakespeare to write his Merchant 
of Venice. 

Some may contemn this belief on the ground that 
it makes the inspiration of genius dependent upon the 
capricious demands of the public, and the mind of 
Shakespeare the handmaid of vulgar taste. There is 
a difference, however, between the recognition of a 
demand and the manner in which the demand is met. 
From the little that we know of Shakespeare, we can 
be reasonably certain that he was preeminently a man 
of action. His hand was ever on the pulse of his 
age, and at no time was he unaware of its needs. 
If a play was wanted from him, whether by his sov- 
ereign or his public, it was quickly forthcoming, — ^ 



INTRODUCTION 

but he supplied it in his own way, regardless of 
opinion, oblivious, we doubt not, to such a [thing as 
public taste in his hours of creation, and so lovingly 
occupied with the children of his genius that the 
world, for the time being, was as a strange family to 
him. 

We may well believe that the crowds in the gallery 
and the yard of the Globe and Blackfriars theaters 
accepted Shylock as an offering to their prejudice and 
loathing, and that they beheld his ruin with much 
gloating and brave shrieking ; with roars of laughter 
for Gratiano's quips and loud applause for Portia's 
cleverness. With what jeers must the exit of the 
frustrated Jew have been attended, with what curses 
and fierce sibilation ! 

We have changed somewhat ; have grown to pity 
Shylock — nay, even to sympathize with him. The 
demon of Burbadge (the original Shylock) with the 
fiery beard and false nose — the vent-hole of Eliza- 
bethan injustice and wrong — what a difference be- 
tween him and the dignified figure, so full, withal, of 
the despicable and the pathetic, of our great modern 
actors 1 Anathema and execration have given place to 
philosophical disquisition concerning, not the deviltry 
of Shylock, but the justice of his bond, the right and 
wrong of his enemies. Some will even have it that 
he is no longer the villain, but the victim of "Jus 



INTRODUCTION 

Summa Injuria," of the strict interpretation of abstract 
legal right, and that the play as a whole, instead of 
being the sometime medium of pleasing the prejudiced 
groundling, is really a great illustration of the relation 
of the individual to property. 

We may readily grant that the play contains such 
elements, but we refuse, under favor, to believe, with 
some writers, that out of the principles of " property 
and the individual," or of " Jus Summa Injuria," the 
master dramatist created the Merchant of Venice. For 
this theory carries with it the ridiculous, but inevitable 
corollary, that the characters of Shakespeare are but 
allegorical puppets, which live, move and have their 
being through virtue of the ologies and the isms which 
they are supposed to exemplify ; which theory, we 
may remark, is about as valuable, for mankind, as 
would be an astronomical theory that held the stars 
of heaven as chiefly valuable for their practical illustra- 
tion of the law of gravitation. It was the object of 
the old plays known as mysteries, miracles, and moral- 
ities, to body forth incidents of sacred history, prin- 
ciples of conduct, and theologic dogma: and in this 
they succeeded admirably. But they never rose to 
the dignity of the true drama, for they lacked the 
virility of life, its freedom and mobility, its height and 
depth, its humor and its tears. They were sermons 
in tableaux vivants, spectacular exhortations to right- 



INTRODUCTION 

eousness. We ought, therefore, to look askance upon 
any theory which classes Shakespeare as a writer of 
philosophical mysteries or ethical miracles. For the 
only true way of regarding him is as " the Hierophant 
of Nature," and to look upon his dramas as interpre- 
tations of life. And this, you may remark, implies 
all manner of mysteries and miracles, all kinds of 
philosophies, theologies and theories of individual and 
property, abstract legal right and moral justice, every- 
thing, indeed, which makes up the sum of man's 
existence. 

In the Merchant of Venice, it is not any one pivotal 
principle which interests us to the exclusion of all 
others ; it is the clash of dissimilar natures, the con- 
flict of love and hatred, justice and wrong, mercy and 
revenge ; the intermingling of laughter and tears, of 
joy and despair, of dark enmities and sunlight friend- 
ships — of all the lights and shadows that play, in 
swift alternation, about the ways of Life. 

Not in " Jus Summa Injuria," and not in the relation 
of the individual to property, nor in any other abstrac- 
tion, is the genesis of the Merchant to be looked for ; 
and he who attempts to read this, or any other true 
piece of poetry, in the light of these, will read in but a 
kind of dim moonshine, and strain his mental vision 
without any result, and certainly without any enjoy- 
ment ; which latter, if it be of the right kind, is one 



INTRODUCTION 

of the ends toward which the study of literature is 
directed. It is true, of course, that you will find the 
above mentioned theories in the Merchant of Venice ; 
but the question is. How many theories and principles 
will you not find, or imagine you find, in this human 
circle of the master's creation ? It contains both the 
tragic and comic sides of life ; is indeed a sort of twi- 
light comedy, having in it at once the sparkle and joy- 
ousness of the day, and the sober shades of evening, 
yet hovering so perfectly between the two that we 
know not whether to be sad or merry. 

While we are trembling for the fate of Antonio, and 
preparing to shed tears over his untimely taking-off, 
Portia, the embodied love of the drama, as Shylock is 
the incarnate hate, breaks upon the scene like comfort- 
ing sunlight through storm-clouds, and dissipates the 
dire forces which are being prepared for Antonio's de- 
struction. And yet we cannot resist the feeling of 
sadness which possesses us at the ruin of Shylock, 
even though we know that with his ruin the salvation 
of Antonio is purchased, and " Antonio is a good man," 
a man of generous heart and mind, of practical charity, 
and of much Christian kindness. But Shylock, too, is 
such a man, in all the strength and force of the word, 
that while we rejoice for Antonio's sake, we are deeply 
touched by the confusion of the Jew, and wish that his 
exit might not be accompanied by such humiliation and 



INTRODUCTION 

despair. We feel that under other circumstances than 
those presented in the play, Shylock might be admi- 
rable. We feel that, after all, he is not so culpable 
in his hatred as the social conditions that have kin- 
dled its fierce fires in his heart, conditions surely 
tragic, under which the Jews wore the badge of in- 
famy and the garb of disgrace, were pent together in 
foul ghettos like cattle, branded like them by the iron, 
and stripped of their skin by the bloody lash of Chris- 
tian persecution, wielded by centuries of prejudice 
and cruelty. Also under which such a character as 
Antonio, otherwise thoroughly lovable, could detest 
the Jew so intensely as to forfeit, for the time being, 
'*s rank of gentleman by playing the bully and debas- 
' ig his manhood by a cowardly misuse of his social 
privileges, which we cannot read of without a feeling 
of shame. Let it not be said that this feeling of shame 
in us is due to the want of " the historical mind," that 
Antonio was as good as his social environments would 
let him be ; that his ill-treatment of Shylock sprang, 
not altogether from personal dislike, but from his 
inherited detestation of the Jew as an enemy of the 
Saviour, and from his loathing of usury, which the 
Church had taught him, and all her children, to regard 
as a sin against God and man. The current opinions 
and beliefs of any period of history cannot, perhaps, 
be rightly estimated and appreciated without a well 



INTRODUCTION 

adjusted historical perspective, but it yet remains to be 
proved that the immortal part of man, his indestructi- 
ble love of justice, his noble impulses and generous 
motives, have ever been aborted, or even dulled, by 
the wickedness and ignorance of any century in the 
history of mankind. Antonio, like many other men, 
can be generous enough where he loves, where it is 
easy to be generous, but of the generosity which comes 
of love, in the beautiful Christly sense of the word, he 
appears to have little, or even none at all. When we 
first meet Antonio, we see him under a cloud of sad- 
ness, an inexplicable sadness, for which his compan- 
ions, Salarino and Salanio, have divers explanations. 
Chiefly that he is worrying about his merchandise ; for 
what else, as they think, is it possible to fret over but 
wealth and the possible diminution of means to enjoy- 
ment which the loss of wealth entails ? An explana- 
tion, however, which the haughty merchant rejects. 
As to being in love, he ridicules the idea ; and as he 
himself cannot enlighten us, we are tempted to indulge 
in guessing, and say that his sadness foreshadows the 
coming disasters. But as the disasters end in happi- 
ness, we must needs let his sadness be, unless we 
reason that the state of his affairs is really responsible 
for his condition of mind. For notwithstanding his 
statement that his "ventures are not in one bottom 
trusted," nor his " whole estate upon the fortune of the 



INTRODUCTION 

present year," it afterwards appears, in his confession 
to Bassanio, that all his fortunes are at sea, and that 
he has " neither money nor commodity " wherewith to 
raise the money which Bassanio needs to furnish him 
" to Belmont, to fair Portia." But Antonio is too proud 
to make such an admission to his young satellites. 

From Bassanio he conceals nothing. Between these 
two there is an ideal friendship, an affection in whose 
depths of tenderness all that is base is submerged and 
lost, and all that is beautiful and ennobling is gen- 
dered. Their love is like that of two brothers, the 
wayward and impulsive Bassanio reverencing the 
thoughtful and sober Antonio, who, in his turn, regards 
his wild young kinsman with somewhat of a parent's 
tenderness. There is no thought, whether it be of joy 
or sorrow, that Bassanio keeps from him ; and there is 
no task too difficult for Antonio's love. 

How natural, then, that Bassanio, dreaming of win- 
ning a wife and a fortune, yet without the means of 
purchasing the opportunity to do so, should appeal to 
Antonio ; that Antonio, reckless in the generosity of 
his love for Bassanio, should, for his love's sake, break 
an honored custom, and bid him borrow the money 
which he himself is unable to supply. How natural, 
too, that Bassanio, intoxicated by sweet thoughts of 
success, and impatient for the ripening of his schemes, 
should go straight to the man most likely to have the 



INTRODUCTION 

money on hand, to the famous money-lender, Shylock 
the Jew ! 

There is a tone of condescension in the reply of the 
Jew to the request of Bassanio, which irritates that 
young nobleman ; for Shylock speaks of Antonio as 
though he were some petty dealer in commodities ; 
considers long before signifying his willingness to lend 
the money, and finally says, with a lordly air : "I 
think I may take his bond." 

To Antonio himself he is more respectful, though 
from the first we know that on Shylock's side there 
is hate ; on Antonio's, contempt. Were this hate for 
the merchant, as Shylock's first utterances in his pres- 
ence might imply, the hate of a usurer for one whose 
charity impairs his business, we might then be justi- 
fied in representing Shylock, as did the actors before 
Macklin, as an unnatural monster, and in classing him 
with Barabas : — but mark the reasons which follow : 

He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congregate. 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest. 

If Antonio, a patrician among merchants, is haughty, 
and contemptuous toward the Jew, Shylock, a digni- 
fied presence among his people, is no less proud : a 
man capable of much reverence, sensitive about that 



INTRODUCTION 

nation which he so justly admires, and quick to feel 
any slight put upon him for his creed, for his worship 
of the God of Israel. To insult him on account of 
his religion is to sneer, indirectly, at the augustness 
of the Jew's Jehovah ; and to jeer at the traditions of 
his, or indeed any man's people, when the traditions 
are, like those of the Hebrews, so lovingly cherished, is 
to bruise his egoism, to abase his intelligence, to pro- 
claim his forefathers a race of dotards -and his nation 
a parcel of fools. And there is no people that takes 
its religion, and even the dogmas and ceremonials 
which have clustered around it, so deeply in earnest as 
the Jews ; nor can we discover in the spiritual history of 
man any creed so consistent as theirs, or any concep- 
tion of Deity which has so withstood the invasions of 
philosophy, the inroads of new ideas, and the stronger 
influences of a despotic, proselytizing ecclesiasticism, 
through centuries of hardship, and among unfriendly 
peoples. And this consistency of the Jews as a nation 
is, to a great degree, the key-note of Shylock's char- 
acter. In thought, word and deed he is a Hebrew ; 
in his devotion to the law of his fathers, in his rever- 
ence for their traditions, and in his contempt for 
whoever or whatever is not of Jewry. Never, for a 
moment, is his nationality hidden. One can easily 
imagine him sacrificing with Abraham, or worshipping 
with David. 



INTRODUCTION 

A writer lacking the great genius of Shakespeare 
would doubtless, in creating Shylock, have given to his 
conversation a copious Talmudic sprinkling, the better 
to impress us with his nationality. But the Jew of the 
master is not compound of such tricks of type ; and 
yet who would not recognize in him a grand Hebraic 
figure, even were he nameless, and his nationality a 
secret ? In the blaze of the Renaissance, the glorious 
day of Christianity, following the darkness of Medie- 
valism, he stands alone, somber, proud, and looks down 
upon the feverish joys and activities of the time with 
somewhat of the contempt of an old French aristocrat 
for the ostentation of a parvenue Bourgeoisie. For he 
is part of that first morning when Jehovah breathed 
into chaos, and to him the light of the Renaissance is 
but a mere coruscation of paganism. 

Venice is magnificent, full of pomp and grandeur. 
Her skies have in them a tender azure ; her sunsets 
are unequalled in their ineffable beauty. Mists of opal 
dream upon her emerald waters, and in them are re- 
flected palaces of marble whose chambers are treasur- 
ies of art, whose walls are lovely with the pictures of 
great masters, Giorgione, Tintoret, Veronese, and 
Titian. Everywhere the eye is delighted with a blaze 
of color, and the whole city is a piece of sensuous 
loveliness. Her quays teem with sailors and traders 
from every known corner of the globe, who mingle, as 



INTRODUCTION 

they hurry to and fro, the hues of their garments under 
the shadows of the silken-sailed argosies — a vast 
human rainbow of Protean magnificence. Her very 
pavements are of chrysophase, and shine translucent 
green in the sunlight ; and though the feet of sorrow, 
which is everywhere immortal, press them daily, still 
they are crowded mostly with figures that are bent 
upon joy and merriment. Here, indeed, life seems 
a dream of happiness, all light and fair as the peaks 
of the Euganian hills in moonlight. Shylock is no part 
of this beauty, this riotous boyhood of the world. He 
is like a chapter of Job in the Sermon on the Mount. 
To him the so-called religion of the Venetians is exe- 
crable. Their mirth is unholy. Their God is an 
outrageous travesty upon his Jehovah. Their prodigal- 
ity is sinful, and their thoughts and actions impious, 
being a contradiction and denial of the Law and the 
Prophets. In this luxuriant valley of the Renaissance, 
he resembles a solitary rock, cast there by the up- 
heavals of a dim past ; an anomaly, preserving, 
amidst all this softness and poetry, somewhat of the 
primordial granite. 

When Antonio, in the face of Venice, spat upon this 
dignified figure, and spurned and mocked him, how 
should he divine what craters of revengeful fires were 
raging under the submissive shrug of the patient Jew ? 
And could Bassanio have peered into the depths of 



INTRODUCTION 

Shylock's heart, he would have gone elsewhere for his 
ducats. But to him, as to Antonio, Shylock is but a 
mere Jew, a man, so far as injury to them is concerned, 
altogether impotent. 

Long before Shylock appears upon the scene, the 
poison of his loathing for Antonio has formed within 
him. The rank social soil in which the Christian 
forced the Jew to grow, gave birth, after centuries of 
darkness and abuse, to bitter plants, souls of hemlock. 
On such a soul Antonio had trampled often and ruth- 
lessly, crushing out of it all the venom of its nature 
and diffusing it through Shylock's being. When, there- 
fore, Bassanio comes to Shylock with the proposition 
that Antonio become his debtor, may we not imagine 
Shylock thanking God for His goodness in providing 
him with an opportunity for revenge? Perhaps the 
bond and the pound of flesh came immediately to his 
mind. He goes to meet Antonio, inwardly gloating over 
the thought of the proud merchant's pecuniary embar- 
rassment, but he hides his eagerness to make Antonio 
indebted to him under a show of business prudence. 
But the sight of Antonio, his supercilious demeanor, his 
air of lofty independence, even in borrowing, betray 
him into a recountal of his wrongs, suffered at the 
hands of the merchant, and wring from him those 
words of such bitter irony: 



INTRODUCTION 

— you come to me and you say, 
" Shylock, we would have moneys ; you say so, 
You that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
And foot me, as you would a stranger cur. 
Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
« Hath a dog money ? Is it possible 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key 
Say this : " Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last 
You spurned me such a day ; another time 
You called me dog ; and for these courtesies 
I'll lend you thus much moneys ? " 

Antonio's retort is cowardly. He cannot deny the 
truth of what Shylock says, is unable, or unwilling, to 
justify himself, and evidently seems to consider the 
Jew's criticism of his brutal conduct a great imperti- 
nence, for he tells him he is as like to call him dog 
again, to spit on him again, to spurn him, too ; sneers 
at his business of money-lending, despite the fact that 
in this instance he finds it a convenience, and haughtily 
bids him lend the money, not as to a friend, but to an 
enemy, 

Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 

Exact the penalty. 

It is a challenge. Shylock, in his heart, accepts it, 
but outwardly deprecates Antonio's storming, and, that 
the proposal of the bond may be received " in a merry 



INTRODUCTION 

sport," vows that he would be friends with him, lend 
him the required money, and take no interest for the 
use of it. Antonio accepts this offer in good faith ; at 
least, he is content to risk a pound of his flesh and to 
believe the bond to be, in truth, a merry sport. Bas- 
sanio objects, not too strenuously, however; and An- 
tonio, laughing at his fear, closes with the Jew, who 
goes off to the notary's in triumph. 

The strain of thoughtlessness, verging almost on 
selfishness, which is sufficiently apparent in Bassanio's 
somewhat weak aquiescence to the sealing of the bond, 
is not calculated to win our respect ; but neither is it, 
in Bassanio's case, any deterrent to our affection. He 
has the warrant of friendship for appealing to Antonio 
for help, the temptation of hope and desire to make 
him accept of it to the danger of his friend, and a tem- 
peramental daring and impulsiveness which make pru- 
dence impossible and bedim whatever foresight he 
may have. Indeed, Bassanio is a creature of impulse, 
for the most part generous, and even noble ; a man, 
besides, of the liveliest conception and decisive action, 
but in whom the heart is master of the head : impres- 
sionable to an exquisite degree ; capable of fiery en- 
thusiasm; chivalrous-hearted, and ready to follow an 
idea, or even a fancy, whithersoever it may lead him, 
reckless of consequences. A man of indestructible 
hope and forward-looking spirit ; a soldier of fortune 



INTRODUCTION 

to whom chance is as a companion, and the speculative 
world a fit stage for the activities of his daring nature. 
In him, more than in any other character of the play, 
are figured forth the enthusiasm, the courage, the hope, 
the love of beauty and life, as well as the moral light- 
ness, of the Renaissance; just as the antithetical at- 
tributes of patriarchal times, grim conservatism, narrow 
prudence, and deep earnestness touched with gloom, 
are embodied in Shylock. 

To Bassanio the thought of failure in any scheme he 
has once formed never comes to trouble him ; nay, per- 
haps even the spectres of old hopes, the minatory shapes 
of wrecked enterprises rising out of his past, only serve 
to make the contemplated venture all the more alluring 
to him. In setting forth his hopes in regard to Portia, 
he makes light of all the renowned suitors blown into 
Belmont from every coast, and tells Antonio that, were 
the means at hand to furnish him to the fair Colchis 
where the lady dwells, he should, beyond question, 
prove to be the fortunate Jason. Perhaps the memory 
of the fair, speechless messages received from Portia's 
eyes justifies this most confident assertion; but such 
is the nature of the man that even had the messages 
never been sent, one can fancy him going forth to try 
issues with chance from very love of the adventure. 

It is clear that in such a character narrow self- 
interest or sordid motives could never dominate the 



INTRODUCTION 

thoughts, or exercise any directive influence upon the 
actions. And hence Bassanio, of all men in the world, 
would be the one most likely to appeal to the noble- 
hearted Portia, and to bring into her life the happi- 
ness which she deserves, and which her ever-virtuous 
father hoped to secure to her in devising the lottery of 
the three caskets. It is the happy fruition of the fath- 
er's hopes which forms the element of comedy in The 
Merchant of Venice, not the deliverance of Antonio, 
for that is accomplished by means of most questionable 
honesty, and at the expense of the Jew's happiness, 
perhaps of his life. In conventional melodrama, the 
downfall, even the destruction of "the villain," does 
not disturb us ; nay, we rather expect to see him either 
killed or frustrated, and are not at all disturbed when 
the nemesis overtakes him, for he is usually an impos- 
sible creature, the personification of sin and wrong, put 
into the play as a foil to virtue and to make her inevi- 
table triumph the more glorious. But Shylock is a 
human being who, though he sins deeply, sins not 
without provocation, and is, in turn, sinned against; 
which fact, if it do not give rise to an actual tragic 
element in the play itself, suggests tragic thoughts to 
our minds. It is because fate sometimes plays tragi- 
cally with such beings as Portia, in such situations as 
hers, and turns the sunshine of such natures into black 
sorrow, and because, loving and admiring her as we do, 



INTRODUCTION 

we behold fortune making her sunshine more radiant, 
instead of turning her day to night, — it is because of 
this that we are filled with that sense of repose and 
gratification which springs from the consummation of 
something greatly desired, and which it is the chief 
end of Comedy to bring to us. 

Portia is a woman of sensibilities as exquisite as the 
snow garments which Winter gives to mountain pines, 
and any breath of rudeness would come to them as a 
cruel injury. There is in her nature, as in that of all 
good women, something mountain-like, a noble lofti- 
ness of mind, a whiteness of soul, spotless and unassail- 
able, and a tenderness of heart that is like green 
places nearer earth, full of comfort and peace, of 
flowers and beauty. Should an unkindly fate marry 
her to a base man, what a tragedy that were 1 For 
with all her tenderness, with all her loyalty to her 
father's memory and her respect for his wishes, with 
all the submissiveness of her love and all that faithful 
recognition of duty which her nature teaches and her 
mind commends, with all this, she has in her a 
strength of individuality akin to Chalybean steel. For 
her love's sake, it will bend: in opposition to one 
whom she disliked, how easily might it become a thing 
of danger 1 For the wit that warms and illumines can 
also make the spirit dark. The mind that is capable 
of recognizing and appreciating nobility can also 



INTRODUCTION 

recognize baseness and loathe it. And the heart that 
loves greatly can hate intensely. But Portia is so fair- 
souled and lovable that it seems as if fate itself must 
grow tender toward this beautiful creature, make her a 
favorite, weave chaplets of orange blossoms for her 
brow, and supplement her worldly opulence with the 
riches of love. 

The happiness of her future is dependent upon 
chance. Bassanio confesses that he goes to woo 
Portia in the hope of winning her through chance. 
Antonio borrows money that the chance may be taken, 
and trusts to chance to pay this money back ; and it is 
on the chance of revenge that Shylock stakes the 
interest of his loan. On this current of chance these, 
and indeed all men, are borne, some to desolate places, 
others to delightful shores ; some to love and beatitude 
in happy gardens of Belmont, others to sober houses 
in ghettoes, to desolation and despair : 

The old saying is no heresy, 
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 

It is to be noted here, that by a beautiful stroke the 
poet has made hatred the lackey of love. The ducats 
which are given by Shylock in the hope of revenge, 
are the means wherewith Bassanio is led to Portia. 
The instrument designed for an evil end is the begetter 
of good, and the petard by which the plans of the 



INTRODUCTION 

designer are brought to nothing. Mark, however, that 
while an auspicious destiny is watching over Portia at 
Belmont, reserving her for Bassanio, whom she loves, 
leading the thrasonical Morocco, in his barbaric taste, 
to choose the golden casket, and the vain Arragon to 
select the casket of silver, this same destiny is deep- 
ening the night in Shylock's soul, and giving him 
reasons enough to make his desire for a pound of 
Christian flesh somewhat natural, however repulsive. 
In other words, Shakespeare is humanizing the usur- 
ious Hebrew. 

Launcelot Gobbo, his servant, leaves him to enter 
the service of Bassanio, who furnishes him with a 
brave new livery, out of Shylock's ducats. The Jew, 
according to Launcelot, is the devil himself, a most 
miserly devil in whose household a servant is almost 
starved. As we get better acquainted with Launcelot, 
however, we find that the young gentleman is given 
to playful epithets and somewhat exaggerated descrip- 
tions ; that his love of fun is out of all proportion to 
his respect for truth, and that his irrepressible fond- 
ness for pun-making and quibbling keeps his state- 
ments in a continual quarrel with fact. And so one can 
easily believe that he left the service of the Jew, not 
because he was famished therein, but because the sober 
house of Shylock did not afford him sufficient oppor- 
tunity for gossip and merriment. And, then, a nature 



INTRODUCTION 

like his, compact of laughter, would hardly dis- 
cover anything lovable in the stern and taciturn Jew. 
It is when Launcelot goes to his old master's house to 
announce his departure that we are introduced to 
Jessica. The conversation between these two, care- 
lessly read, might lead us to see in Shylock a species 
of monster, a most unnatural parent, and a man to 
whom the love of gain is much dearer than his child. 
These are the first words of Jessica : 

I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so ; 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil. 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 

Would it not appear as if Shylock maltreated her ? 
Did Shakespeare mean to convey this impression ? 
If so, he has failed. With his usual mastery, he has 
made personality a greater force, and a surer basis of 
judgment, than either incident or statement. As we 
grow to know Jessica, we find in her a frivolous crea- 
ture to whom the household of any staid man would 
be unbearable. For her youth's sake, we can pardon 
much that she says and does, and taking into con- 
sideration the constant suggestion to pleasure in the 
gay world into which she could gaze longingly, as 
through bars, but into which she might not enter, we 
can sympathize with her in her desire for freedom, and 
even connive at her elopement with the man she loves. 

xl 



INTRODUCTION 

But taking her all in all, she is one of the few unlov- 
able women that the master has created, vain, falsely 
proud, ashamed of her father, her religion and her 
people, while her robbery of her father's money and 
jewels is, out of doubt, shameful. 

It is not without good cause that Shylock, in taking 
leave of her and Launcelot, should feel some ill a-brew- 
ing towards his rest, and be right loath to go to the 
supper of those Christians by whom he is to be robbed 
of his money and his child. It is in this scene that 
there occurs one of the most affecting passages in the 
play, the one wherein Shylock breaks in upon his 
daughter and Launcelot while they are preparing a 
fresh sorrow for his already embittered life. 

Launcelot : Mistress, look out at window, for all this : 

There will come a Christian by 

"Will be worth a Jewess' eye. 
Shylock : What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha 1 
Jessica : His words were, " Farewell, mistress," nothing else. 
Shylock : The patch is kind enough. 

The thought that Launcelot has been kind to his 
child, and is liked by her, changes Shylock's harsh 
inquiry to words that have in them a hidden tender- 
ness, words which, coming from one so grim and 
undemonstrative, are equivalent to the warm praise of 
an ordinary man. 

The elopement of Jessica takes place between the 
xli 



INTRODUCTION 

signing of the bond and the date of its forfeiture ; and 
though we cannot presume to say that Shakespeare 
consciously designed this sub-plot to justify the inten- 
sity of Shylock's hatred and the fierceness of his lust 
for revenge, it is nevertheless true that from this point 
on the Jew ceases to be merely a despicable usurer, 
becomes altogether human, an outraged father, and a 
man who is deeply wronged. 

While Bassanio is on his way to Belmont and happi- 
ness, we are made acquainted with the grief of Shylock 
at the loss of his daughter and his treasure : and as 
though the sorrow of his seared heart were too great 
to be exhibited, as though his cries of rage and bitter- 
ness were too pathetic to be heard, and altogether too 
tragic for a comedy, the words and actions of the Jew 
immediately after his discovery of his losses are re- 
ported to us by the gossamer-minded Salanio and 
Salarino. 

Salanio : I never heard a passion so confused, 

So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets. 

Naturally, the " dog Jew " being quite human, as fond 
of his child as other parents of theirs, as prone to feel 
wrong, as susceptible to disgrace, and as quick to 
avenge himself on the wrong-doers. The rabble of 
Venice follows him with mocking cries ; casts stones at 

xlii 



INTRODUCTION 

him, no doubt, and out of his grief extracts the sweets 
of Christian enjoyment at a Jew's confusion. 

Some time after this, we again meet Salanio and 
Salarino, and hear from them that Antonio has had 
misfortune. Shylock breaks in upon their conversa- 
tion, and is greeted by Salanio with these words : 

How, now, Shylock, what news among the merchants ? 

What news could there be for him among the mer- 
chants but their sneers, their laughter, their ironic 
references to Jessica's elopement ; their winks and 
nudges and ill-concealed titterings ? It is these two 
gadflies, Salanio and Salarino, devoid of all true 
charity, that sting Shylock, in this scene, into the 
grandest vindication of the inherent rights of man, 
the most sublime protest against injustice, that has 
ever been written. Here his hate is no longer per- 
sonal : it is a sort of divine hate which has in it the 
cry of a martyred people against the slavery of cen- 
turies, against the rack, the bloody shambles, the 
cruel whip, the garb of shame 1 What an idea we 
should possess of the ethical consciousness of the 
times of Elizabeth, could we but know what effect this 
speech had upon Shakespeare's audience, such a one 
as we have attempted to describe. They had but 
lately shrieked and cursed as Lopez mounted the scaf- 
fold, " He is a Jew 1 " And now Shylock stood before 
zliii 



INTRODUCTION 

them, grand in his utterance of eternal truth, proudly 
declaring, " I am a Jew 1 " Nowhere is the greatness 
of Shakespeare more manifest. 

It is also in this scene that Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew 
of Shylock's tribe, annoimces to him the fruitlessness 
of his search for Jessica ; and it is in this scene that 
Shylock wishes his daughter were dead at his feet, 
and the ducats she has stolen in her coffin, — cruel 
words, but, considering how cruelly she had wronged 
him and disgraced her people, they would not appear 
wholly unmerited to one who could regard the matter 
sympathetically with the Jew ; and they are certainly 
the natural outburst of Shylock's present state of mind, 
now well nigh on the verge of madness, and tormented 
by the jibes and pricks of Salanio and Salarino into a 
blind fury. 

When Tubal tells him of Antonio's losses, his lamen- 
tation is changed to an insane delight, and he thanks 
God for what, to him, is consoling news. It seems, 
then, that the Lord of Hosts has not forgotten and 
deserted him, but on the contrary has delivered one of 
the authors of his sorrow into his hands 1 The stroke 
of art whereby Tubal is made to intermingle bad news 
with good, the announcement of Antonio's adversity 
with Shylock's losses, is exceedingly fine ; and when 
we see and hear the sorrow and indignation which 
burst from Shylock on learning that his daughter has 
xliv 



INTRODUCTION 

sold his turquoise for a monkey, a sacred and precious 
memento for a frivolous novelty, our hearts are touched 
with pity, and we feel that his vow to have the heart 
of Antonio is not the bloody ranting of a demon, but 
the expression of wild rage in a persecuted man, the 
fierceness of a long-suifering soul loosed from its 
thralldom, and seeking vengeance on its harasser. 

In the trial scene, the cruel inflexibility of the man 
changes this feeling of pity into one of horror ; yet in 
his most despicable moments we cannot resist enter- 
taining for him a secret admiration, he is so great 
intellectually, so granite-like in the strength and con- 
sistency of his resolve, so honest in his hatred. Such 
a perfectly able man 1 He fights the Christian state 
of Venice single-handed, and they must needs resort 
to quibbles to defeat him. 

The capacity for intense hatred is a sad attribute in 
the most prosaic of beings : in a man like Shylock it is 
tragic. That we ought to loathe him for nursing such 
a terrible design upon Antonio, is true ; but it is also 
true that the existence of so cruel and unjust a society 
as this wherein Shylock's lot is cast, a society so 
bloody and fierce in its prejudices as to justify the 
great hatred which the Jew has for it, is a tragedy in 
itself, so full of awe that no comedy, however exquis- 
itely humorous, can quite make us consider it lightly, 
or pass over it with a smile. 

xlv 



INTRODUCTION 

When the news of Antonio's danger reaches Bel- 
mont, Bassanio immediately hurries off to Venice, 
bearing with him a large sum of money furnished by 
Portia, whom he has had the good fortune to win as 
his wife ; by which means he hopes to tempt Shylock 
from his bloody purpose. In this he acts impulsively, 
relying, as usual, upon a happy chance to deliver his 
friend, and not upon any well conceived plan of action. 
Had he paid sufficient attention to the words of 
Jessica : 

When I was with him I have heard him swear, 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him — 

had he marked these words, his belief in the potency 
of his ducats to charm the Jew might not have been so 
great. 

It is Portia who, broader-visioned than Bassanio, 
and divining that a man's hate, like his love, may be 
stronger in him than greed of gain — it is she who now 
becomes the protagonist in this drama of life-and-death 
struggle between friendship and enmity. We have 
seen how faithful she has been to her duty, with what 
a noble passivity she has bowed to the will of her dead 
father, with what fortitude she has submitted and 
endured ; we now begin to see with what strength 
xlvi 



INTRODUCTION 

she can act, with what clear-sightedness she can plan, 
and how forcefully she is able to put her plans into 
execution. Her preparations for Antonio's defense 
are made with all the attention to detail, and with all 
the elaborate care of a practiced lawyer. This practi- 
cal spirit, however, which in Portia is the wisdom of 
womanhood co-operating with a beautiful femininity, 
does not at any time prevent the joyous element of 
her nature from expressing itself, and her girlishness, 
with all its delicate humor and love of innocent fun, 
robs her preparations of their somber significance, and 
comes to us as a beautiful relief to the dark earnest- 
ness of Shylock's malice. Bound on a mission whose 
success is essential to her husband's well-being, and 
feeling the weight of her responsibility with all the 
earnestness of her heart and mind, she can, withal, 
give play to the sunshine of her being in her humorous 
comments on her undertaking, and in her proposed 
wager with Nerissa, that being accoutered like young 
men she will prove the prettier fellow of the two, and 
play the part of a young bragging Jack with more 
fidelity. Even when, as Balthasar, she enters the 
court and takes her place as judge, there is a playful- 
ness breaking through her assumed dignity which 
lights up the gloom of the scene and serves to rob it of 
its terrors. But this playfulness must not be mistaken 
for a want of appreciation, on her part, of the situation. 
xlvii 



INTRODUCTION 

It is rather an inward exulting that she finds it difficult 
to control and conceal. For well she knows that the 
case is already decided ; that here she is supreme ; and 
her heart is glad at the thought that she, for whose 
love's sake Antonio is suffering, is now able to dis- 
charge love's debt and be his savior. 

Portia is the nemesis of Shylock. It is this great 
love of hers, which the Jew's ducats helped Bassanio 
to win, that now confronts his fierce hatred. It is 
dawn come to annihilate darkness. Yet such is the 
kindness of her womanly heart that she would fain 
be merciful even to this most inveterate enemy of her 
husband's friend, and would win him to mercy rather 
than force him to justice. The pity of it is that the 
Jew cannot understand her mercy. He is a graduate, 
not of a school of charity, but of a school of villainy, 
wherein he has been well taught, and the instruction 
whereof he now purposes putting into practice. 

Mercy belongs to Christ, and the followers of Christ 
have murdered, tortured, vilified the Jew. Justice 
belongs to God, and the child of Jehovah will kill the 
Christian 1 An eye for an eye — what, to Shylock, 
could be fairer? The Mercy of which Portia speaks 
is as foolish to him as the grim Law of Shylock is 
horrible to Portia, and besides, between the Jew and 
the Christian it is a question of " Thy life or mine ; 
thy prosperity and happiness or mine I " and thinking 
xlviii 



INTRODUCTION 

himself master of the situation, could anything appear 
more foolish to Shylock than to throw away his advan- 
tage, and break the oath of vengeance which he has 
recorded in heaven ? His reasoning is unanswerable ; 
his logic irresistible. Beyond question, he is horrible 
in his thirst for a bloody satisfaction, but notwithstand- 
ing, he is great ; and we cannot resist the impulse to 
admiration as he stands there striking all Venice into 
dumb terror. The combined intellects of that court 
would be no match for the man : in fair open fight 
he can catch them all upon the hip and beat them. 
But as of old the great Samson was shorn of his 
strength by a woman's art, so now is Shy lock's power 
of mind, the strength of his legal position, and the 
mighty force of his hatred brought low, utterly over- 
turned and rendered impotent by the wit of Portia. 

She sets her trap in the cunningest way imaginable, 
leading the Jew to the gin of self-interest, and catching 
him fast in the toils of his weaknesses, which the hood- 
winked victim believes to be his most inexpugnable 
strengths. Nevertheless, he is but trapped ; and traps 
and Justice, gins and Right, have no faintest shadow 
of relationship. 

It has often been said that Shylock is robbed of his 
pound of flesh by a legal quibble ; that for the court to 
declare that it awards a pound of flesh, and that the law 
doth justly give it, and then to say that if, in cutting 

xlix 



INTRODUCTION 

the flesh, one drop of blood is shed, it is no longer a 
lawful act, but a crime — all this, it is held, is but the 
merest trick of sophistic refinement. And this is true : 
but Portia, it must be remembered, does not rest her 
case, ultimately, on this quibble. Shakespeare, as Mr. 
Wm. J. Rolfe has admirably pointed out,^ was too great 
an artist to be content to follow strictly the old and 
familiar story of the bond and the pound of flesh. It was 
a story undoubtedly well known to his audience, and 
had he neglected to incorporate in his play the most 
sensational part of the tale, it is almost certain that 
The Merchant would have failed of popular success. 
Besides, the ingenious quibble served his dramatic pur- 
pose admirably, and he uses it with an effect unparal- 
leled in dramatic literature. The intellectual power of 
Shylock is met by the wit of Portia ; the fierceness of 
the Jew's lust for Antonio's blood is brought into sharp 
opposition with the mercifulness and pity of his victim's 
beautiful savior, and the mad desire of the Jew for a 
frightful satisfaction is contrasted with the calmness 
and self-possession of Portia, secure in her sense of 
justice and upheld by the sacredness of her cause. 
But whence springs this sense of justice? Surely not 
from her knowledge of the dead letter of the law, not 
from the certainty that it is impossible for Shylock to 
cut " just a pound of flesh " and in the cutting to avoid 

^ See Furaess' Variorum Shakespeare, p, 225. 
1 



INTRODUCTION 

spilling a drop of Antonio's blood : it springs from a 
far deeper source than this, from the consciousness 
that it is eternally wrong for any man to desire the life 
of another and eternally right to deprive the would-be 
murderer of his power to carry out his awful design. 
The hold which the law has on Shylock is, not that he 
cannot conform to the condition of the bond, but that 
he has plotted against the life of Antonio, whom he 
hates. Shakespeare was too great a man, was too 
deeply religious and fair-minded to overlook an inde- 
structible ethical law for the sake of a dramatic situa- 
tion, however ingenious it might be. But it is this 
very greatness of Shakespeare as a humanist which 
gives rise to inconsistencies in Portia's behavior irrec- 
oncilable with her actions in general, and certainly 
with her lofty principles of Christianity as set forth in 
the famous plea for mercy. For acting in harmony 
with her own principles of mercy, Portia would have 
advised Shylock beforehand of the worthlessness of 
his case, and so proved consistent with herself: as it 
is, she plays with the Jew, and even seems to throw 
brands of promise upon the fire of his hope, as if to 
deepen her pleasure in its inevitable extinguishment, 
or to enjoy her own sense of power. But the neces- 
sities of the plot compel this behavior on Portia's part, 
for though according to justice Shylock ought not to 
be robbed of his money, still, according to dramatic 

U 



INTRODUCTION 

laws, he must be so robbed, else where were the thrill- 
ing climax of the scene, and, in the player's parlance, 
the " fine business " of the situation. 

It is not the loss of Shylock's ducats, however, which 
disturbs us, for what is his money compared with 
Antonio's salvation? — nor is it his failure to wreak 
his vengeance upon the good merchant; for, on the 
contrary, the chagrin, the inward rage, the bitterness 
of spirit, which this failure must bring to Shylock, are 
but a merited punishment for the crime of his mon- 
strous desire. But when we learn that he is to be 
robbed of his goods ; that he is to be a pensioner on 
the bounty of those who have wronged him ; that he 
is to be compelled, on pain of death, to forswear his 
nation and renounce his God ; that he is, in short, 
to be reduced to a social cipher, a nonentity — then 
our hearts get full of pity for the man ; he becomes in 
one's eyes a martyr to Christian injustice, and the 
thought of his wrong casts a gloom over the joy of 
Antonio's deliverance, and the comedy of the scene is 
quite lost in the pathos of its humanity. 

Love, as we have seen, conquers hate : and this is 
well. But cruelty crushes mercy, and strength and 
cowardice trample upon weakness. This is not well. 
The crowds in the Globe and Blackfriars were no 
doubt delighted ; and one may be permitted to wish 
that Shakespeare had not provided this particular cause 

Hi 



INTRODUCTION 

of their enjoyment. For the genius of the master, 
working after the manner of all mighty spirits, created 
Shylock a man, with all the failings to which man is 
heir, and with certain qualities to which but few are 
heirs, and by creating him thus he has, at least for 
the modern mind, raised up a figure of so tragic an 
aspect that it casts a shadow over the joyousness of 
the play, a shadow that will not be dispelled, and which 
makes it almost impossible to regard the Merchant as 
a comedy, but rather as a tragedy greatly relieved by 
a wealth of humorous incident and dialogue. 

The fifth act of this drama is justly placed among 
the great lyrics of the world's literature. Perhaps, as 
many commentators agree, its soft airs, its peace, its 
music, its poetry, its rich suggestiveness of the charms 
of a night flooded with moonlight and beautiful with 
the witchery of love, were designed as a contrast to 
the struggle and the fever of the trial-scene, and meant 
to lead the spirit from the storm and stress of the 
preceding act into a sweet repose. But does it not 
rather deepen our feeling of sorrow for Shylock, and 
intensify the gloom into which the Jew has been cast ? 
Not if we share the Venetians' prejudice, and dismiss 
Shylock as a demon who has been well served. But it 
is quite otherwise if we consider him as a man hardly 
treated, and especially if a sympathetic imagination 
follows him from the court-room. May we not, in 

liii 



INTRODUCTION 

fancy, go with him through the streets of Venice ? 
There, with bent head and wild eyes, dazed by the 
stroke which Christian mercy has dealt him, he totters 
along, the cries and curses of the rabble sounding to 
him like dream-noises, and their blows and pelted 
scoria falling upon him unheeded. We may go with 
him to the door of his sober house wherein his child 
once dwelt with him, not without love ; where the 
Christians envied, and his countrymen honored him ; 
where he passed his days in peace, worthily, honestly, 
a good citizen (could the Venetians have but seen his 
qualities), but wherein he must henceforth dwell in 
solitude, in darkness of soul and disgrace ; perhaps 
cease to exist at all, for what his thoughts are on 
staggering from the court, no one can tell. Meanwhile, 
the pretty Jessica will be happy with her lover at 
Belmont. Portia will banish Shylock from her thoughts 
and live in the light of her love, Bassanio. Antonio 
will continue to be honored, perhaps to soil Jewish 
gaberdines, and all the fortunate ones of the play will 
no doubt live long and prosper, and make their final 
exit from life as good Christians and much lamented 
citizens. 



liv 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



> suitors to Portia. 
i, ) 



The Duke of Venice. 

The Prince of Morocco, 

The Prince of Arragon, 

Antonio, a Merchant of Venice. 

Bassanio, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia. 

Salanio, >| 

^ , ' ^ friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 

Gratiano, I 

Salerio, J 

Lorenzo, in love with fessica. 

Shylock, a rich few. 

Tubal, a few, his friend. 

Launcelot Gob bo, the clown, servant to Shylock. 

Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 

Balthasar, 



, servants to Portia. 
Stephano, 

Portia, a rich heiress. 

Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 

Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 
Servants to Portia, and other Attendants. 

Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of 
Portia, on the Continent. 




Vj^N. 



The Globe Theatre. 
The authenticity of this drawing Is somewhat doubtful. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



ACT ONE. 
Scene I. 

Venice. A street. 
Enter Antofiio, Salaritw, and Salanio. 

Antonio. In sooth, I know not why 1 am so sad : 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

Salarino. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

Salanio. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 

3 



Act I. sc.2. THE MERCHANT 

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind ; 
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
And every object that might make me fear 20 

Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
Would make me sad. 
Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats, 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
And see the holy edifice of stone, 30 

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks. 
And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the 

thought 
To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, 
That such a thing bechanced would make me 

sad ? 
But tell not me ; I know Antonio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 

4 



OF VENICE Act I. sc.i. 

Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted. 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
Upon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
Salar. Why, then, you are in love. 
Ant. Fie, fie I 

Salar. Not in love neither ? Then let us say you 

are sad. 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are 

merry, 
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed 

Janus, 50 

Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their 

eyes. 
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect, 
That they '11 not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 

Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kins- 
man, 
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
We leave you now with better company. 

S 



Act I. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Sa/ar. I would have stay'd till I had made you 

merry, 60 

If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
Ant Your worth is very dear in my regard. 

I take it your own business calls on you, 

And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
Sa/ar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
Bassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we 
laugh ? say, when ? 

You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 
Sa/ar. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours. 

[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
Lorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found 
Antonio, 

We two will leave you : but at dinner-time 70 

I pray you have in mind where we must meet. 
Bass. I will not fail you. 
Gratiano. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 

You have too much respect upon the world : 

They lose that do buy it with much care : 

Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 
Ant I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 

A stage, where every man must play a part, 

And mine a sad one. 
Gra. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80 

And let my liver rather heat with wine 
6 



OF VENICE Act I. sc.i. 

Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 

Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 

Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the 
jaundice 

By being peevish? I tell thee what, An- 
tonio — 

I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 

There are a sort of men whose visages 

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 

And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 

With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 

As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, 

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark 1 ' 

O my Antonio, I do know of these 

That th€irefore only are reputed wise 

For saying nothing when, I am very sure. 

If they should speak, would almost damn those 
ears 

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers 
fools. 

I'll tell thee more of this another time : 100 

But fish not with this melancholy bait 

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 

Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile : 

I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
7 



Acti. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner- 
time : 
I must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 

Cra. Well, keep me company but two years more, 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own 
tongue. 

Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. no 
[Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 

Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons 
are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels 
of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find 
them : and when you have them, they are not 
worth the search. 

Ant, Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage. 
That you to-day promised to tell me of ? 

Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 120 

How much I have disabled mine estate, 
By something showing a more swelling port 
Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is to come fairly off from the great debts, 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 



OF VENICE Act I. Sc.i. 

I owe the most, in money and in love ; 

And from your love I have a warranty 130 

To unburden all my plots and purposes, 

How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
Within the eye of honour, be assured 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
The self -same way with more advised watch, 140 
To find the other forth; and by adventuring 

both, 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
Because what follows is pure innocence. 
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, 
That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self way 
'Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 
Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 150 

Ant. You know me well : and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost, 

9 



Act I. sc.L THE MERCHANT 

Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. 
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, i6o 

Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 

I did receive fair speechless messages : 

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 

To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 

For the four winds blow in from every coast 

Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, 

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' 

strand. 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 170 

my Antonio, had I but the means 
To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate 1 

Ant Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ; 
Neither have I money nor commodity 
To raise a present sum* : therefore go forth ; 
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost. 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 180 



OF VENICE Act I. sc.ii. 

Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 

Where money is ; and I no question make, 

To have it of my trust, or for my sake. 

\Exeunt. 
Scene II. 

Belmont, A room in Portions house. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is 
aweary of this great world. 

Nerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your mis- 
eries were in the same abundance as your good 
fortunes are : and yet, for aught I see, they are 
as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that 
starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, 
therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity 
comes sooner by white hairs ; but competency 
lives longer. lo 

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were 
good to do, chapels had been churches, and 
poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a 
good divine that follows his own instructions : 
I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 
done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine 
own teaching. The brain may devise laws for 



Acti, sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

the blood ; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold 20 
decree : such a hare is madness, the youth, to 
skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. 
But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose 
me a husband. O me, the word ' choose ' 1 I 
may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse 
whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living 
daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. 
Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, 
nor refuse none ? 

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy 30 
men, at their death, have good inspirations : 
therefore, the lottery that he hath devised in 
these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, — 
whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, 
— will, no doubt, never be chosen by any 
rightly, but one who shall rightly love. But 
what warmth is there in your affection towards 
any of these princely suitors that are already 
come? 

Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou 40 
namest them, I will describe them ; and, 
according to my description, level at my affec- 
tion. 

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing 
but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great 



OF VENICE Act I. sc. a. 

appropriation to his own good parts, that he can 
shoe him himself. 

Ner. Then there is the County Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should 50 
say, ' if you will not have me, choose : ' he 
hears merry tales, and smiles not : I fear he will 
prove the weeping philosopher when he grows 
old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his 
youth. I had rather be married to a death's- 
head with a bone in his mouth than to either of 
these. God defend me from these two 1 

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur 
Le Bon ? 

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass 60 
for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be 
a mocker : but, he 1 — why, he hath a horse 
better than the Neapolitan's ; a better bad habit 
of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is 
every man in no man ; if a throstle sing, he falls 
straight a capering : he will fence with his own 
shadow : if I should marry him, I should marry 
twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I 
would forgive him ; for if he love me to mad- 
ness, I shall never requite him. 70 

Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the 
young baron of England? 

Por. You know I say nothing to him ; for he under- 

13 



Act I. So. a. THE MERCHANT 

stands not me, nor I him: he hath neither 
Latin, French, nor Italian ; and you will come 
into the court and swear that I have a poor 
pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
man's picture ; but, alas, who can converse with 
a dumb-show ? How oddly he is suited 1 I 
think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round 80 
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and 
his behaviour every where. 

f/er. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh- 
bour? 

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; 
for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English- 
man, and swore he would pay him again when 
he was able : I think the Frenchman became 
his surety, and sealed under for another. 

Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke 90 
of Saxony's nephew ? 

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, 
and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is 
drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse 
than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little 
better than a beast : an the worst fall that 
ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go 
without him. 

Mer. If he should offer to choose, and choose the 
right casket, you should refuse to perform 100 
14 



OF VENICE Act I. sc.ii. 

your father's will, if you should refuse to 
accept him. 

For. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee 
set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary 
casket ; for if the devil be within and that 
temptation without, I know he will choose it. 
I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married 
to a sponge. 

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
these lords : they have acquainted me with no 
their determination ; which is, indeed, to re- 
turn to their home and to trouble you with no 
more suit, unless you may be won by some other 
sort than your father's imposition, depending on 
the caskets. 

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die 
as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 
manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel 
of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not 
one among them but I dote on his very absence ; 120 
and I pray God grant them a fair departure. 

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 
time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that 
came hither in company of the Marquis of 
Montferrat ? 

Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think he was 
so called. 

IS 



Act I. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

Ner. True, madam : he, of all the men that ever 
my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best de- 
serving a fair lady. 130 

For. I remember him well ; and I remember him 
worthy of thy praise. 

Enter a Serving-man. 

How now I what news ? 

Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to 
take their leave : and there is a forerunner come 
from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco ; who brings 
word, the prince his master will be here to- 
night. 

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 
a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I 140 
should be glad of his approach : if he have the 
condition of a saint and the complexion of a 
devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
wive me. 

Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, 
another knocks at the door. \Exeunt, 



16 



OF VENICE 



Act I. Sc. iii. 



Scene III. 

Venice. A public place. 

Enter Bassanio and Shy lock. 

Shylock. Three thousand ducats ; well. 

Bassanio. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shy. For three months ; well. 

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall 

be bound. 
Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well. 
Bass. May you stead me ? will you pleasure me ? 

shall I know your answer ? 
Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 

Antonio bound. lo 

Bass. Your answer to that. 
Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the con- 
trary ? 
Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he 
is a good man, is to have you understand me 
that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in 
supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Trip- 
olis, another to the Indies ; I understand, more- 
over, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, 20 
a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, 
squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, 
17 ' ■/' • 



Act I. sc.iii, THE MERCHANT 

sailors but men : there be land-rats and water- 
rats, water-thieves and land-thieves — I mean 
pirates ; and then there is the peril of waters, 
winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, 
sufficient. Three thousand ducats ; I think I 
may take his bond. 

Bass. Be assured you may. 

Shy. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be 30 
assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with 
Antonio ? 

Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation 
which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the 
devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, 
talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; 
but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor 
pray with you. What news on the Rialto? 
Who is he comes here ? 4a 

Enter Antonio. 

Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 

Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks I 
I hate him for he is a Christian ; 
But more for that in low simplicity 
He lends out money gratis and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
18 



OF VENICE Act I. Sc.iiL 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 

Even there where merchants most do congregate, 50 

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 

Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 

If I forgive him 1 

Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? 

Shy. I am debating of my present store ; 
And, by. the near guess of my memory, 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
Will furnish me. But soft I how many months 
Do you desire ? [To Ant] Rest you fair, good 

signior ; 60 

Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow, 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 
How much ye would ? 

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And for three months. 

Shy. I had forgot ; three months, you told me so. 
Well then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear 

you; 
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 70 

19 



Act I. sc.iii. THE MERCHANT 

Upon advantage. 

Ant I do never use it. 

Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's 
sheep, — 
This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf. 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third, — 

Ant And what of him ? did he take interest ? 

Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would 
say. 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromised 
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and 

pied 80 

Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
The skilful shepherd pilled me certain wands. 
And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were 

Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Ant This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for ; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 90 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 
20 



OF VENICE Act I. sou. 

Shy I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
But note me, signior. 

Ant Mark you this, Bassanio, 

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath I 

Shy. Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round loo 
sum. 
Three months from twelve ; then, let me see ; 
the rate — 

Ant Well, Shy lock, shall we be beholding to you? 

Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my moneys and my usances : 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
And all for use of that which is mine own. no 

Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say 
' Shylock, we would have moneys : ' you say so. 
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 
Over your threshold ; moneys is your suit, 



Acti. sc.m. THE MERCHANT 

What should I say to you ? Should I not say 

' Hath a dog money ? is it possible 

A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ' or 

Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 120 

With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 

say this, — 
' Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
You called me dog ; and for these courtesies 
I '11 lend you thus much moneys ' ? 

Ant I am as like to call thee so again, 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
A breed for barren metal of his friend ? 130 

But lend it rather to thine enemy, 
Who if he break, thou mayest with better face 
Exact the penalty. 

Shy. Why, look you, how you storm 1 

I would be friends with you, and have your love, 
Forget the shames that you have stained me 

with. 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear 

me: 
This is kind I offer. 

Bass. This were kindness. 



OF VENICE Acti. sc.iii. 

Shy. This kindness will I show. 

Go with me to a notaty, seal me there 140 

Your single bond, and, in a merry sport, 
If you repay me not on such a day, 
In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Ant. Content, i' faith : I '11 seal to such a bond, 
And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 1 50 
I '11 rather dwell in my necessity. 

Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
Within these two months, that 's a month before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are. 
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others 1 Pray you, tell me this ; 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 160 

A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
23 



Act I. sc.m. THE MERCHANT 

And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
Ant Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 

Give him direction for this merry bond, 

And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 170 

See to my house, left in the fearful guard 

Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 

I will be with you. 
Ani. Hie thee, gentle Jew. \Exif Shylock. 

The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 
Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
Ant Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 

My ships come home a month before the day. 

\Exeunt. 



24 



OF VENICE Aetn, sa. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene I. 

Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Pririce of Morocco and 
his train ; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 

Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
Hath fear'd the valiant : by my love I swear 
The best-regarded virgins of our clime lo 

Hath loved it too : I would not change this hue, 
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen, 

Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : 
But if my father had not scanted me, 
And hedged me by his wit to yield myself 

25 



Act 11. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

His wife who wins me by that means I told 

you, 
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20 

As any comer I have look'd on yet 
For my affection. 
Mor. Even for that I thank you : 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
To try my fortune. By this scimitar 
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she- 
bear. 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 

To win thee, lady. But, alas the while 1 
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
And die with grieving. 
Por. You must take your chance. 

And either not attempt to choose at all. 
Or swear before you choose, if you choose 

wrong, 40 

26 



OF VENICE Act II. 3c. a. 

Never to speak to lady afterward 

In way of marriage : therefore, be advised. 
Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my 

chance. 
Por. First, forward to the temple : after dinner 

Your hazard shall be made. 
Mor. Good fortune then ! 

To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 

[Cornefs, and exeunt. 

Scene II. 

Venice. A street. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Launcelot Certainly, my conscience will serve me 
to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is 
at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, 

* Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or 
' good Gobbo,' or ' good Launcelot Gobbo, use 
your legs, take the start, run away.' My con- 
science says, ' No ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; 
take heed, honest Gobbo,' or, as aforesaid, 

* honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; scorn 
running with thy heels.' Well, the most cour- lo 
ageous fiend bids me pack : * Via 1 ' says the fiend ; 

* away I ' says the fiend ; * for the heavens, rouse 
up a brave mind,' says the fiend, ' and run.' Well, 

27 



Act II. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

my conscience, hanging about the neck of my 
heart, says very wisely to me, ' My honest friend 
Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — or 
rather an honest woman's son ; — for, indeed, my 
father did something smack, something grow to, 
he had a kind of taste ; — well, my conscience 
says, * Launcelot, budge not.' ' Budge,' says the 20 
fiend. ' Budge not,' says my conscience. * Con- 
science,' say I, ' you counsel well ; ' ' Fiend,' say 
I, * you counsel well : ' to be ruled by my con- 
science, I should stay with the Jew my master, 
who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and, 
to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by 
the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the 
devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very 
devil incarnal ; and, in my conscience, my con- 
science is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer 30 
to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend 
gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; 
my heels are at your command ; I will run. 

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 

Gobbo. Master young man, you, I pray you, which 

is the way to master Jew's ? 
Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten 

father I who, being more than sand-blind, high- 
28 



OF VENICE Act II. So. a. 

gravel blind, knows me not: I will try con- 
fusions with him. 

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40 
the way to master Jew's ? 

Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next 
turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your 
left ; marry, at the very next turning, turn of 
no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's 
house. 

Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. 
Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that 
dwells with him, dwell with him or no ? 

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] 50 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. 
Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his 
father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding 
poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 

Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk 
of young Master Launcelot. 

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 

Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 
you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 60 

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your master-ship. 

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, 
according to Fates and Destinies and such odd 
29 



Actn. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of 
learning, is indeed deceased ; or, as you would 
say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Gob. Marry, God forbid 1 the boy was the very 
staff of my age, my very prop. 

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 70 
staff or a prop ? Do you know me, father ? 

Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle- 
man : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God 
rest his soul, alive or dead ? 

Laun. Do you not know me, father ? 

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 
fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that 
knows his own child. Well, old man, I will 
tell you news of your son : give me your bless- 80 
ing : {Launcelot kneels^ truth will come to light ; 
murder cannot be hid long ; a man's son may ; 
but in the end truth will out. 

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are 
not Launcelot, my boy. 

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, 
but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, 
your boy that was, your son that is, your child 
that shall be. 

Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 90 

Laun. I know not what I shall think of that : but I 

30 



OF VENICE Actn. sc.u. 

am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and I am sure 
Margery your wife is my mother. 

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, 
if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh 
and blood. Lord worshipped might he be 1 
what a beard hast thou got 1 thou hast got more 
hair on thy chin that Dobbin, my fill-horse, has 
on his tail. 

Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail loo 
grows backward : I am sure he had more hair 
of his tail than I have of my face when I last 
saw him. 

Gob. Lord, how art thou changed 1 How dost 
thou and thy master agree ? I have brought 
him a present. How 'gree you now ? 

Laun. Well, well : but, for mine own part, as I 
have set up my rest to run away, so I will not 
rest till I have run some ground. My master 's 
a very Jew: give him a present! give him a no 
halter : I am famished in his service ; you may 
tell ever/ finger I have with my ribs. Father, 
I am glad you are come : give me your present 
to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare 
new liveries : if I serve not him, I will run as 
far as God has any ground. O rare fortune I 
here comes the man : to him, father ; for I am 
a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

31 



Actn. Sell. THE MERCHANT 

Enter Bassanio with Leonardo and other followers, 

Bass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted that 
supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 120 
clock. See these letters delivered ; put the 
liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come 
anon to my lodging. [£xit a servant. 

Laun. To him, father. 

Gob. God bless your worship 1 

Bass. Gramercy I wouldst thou aught with me ? 

Gob. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
man, that would, sir, — as my father shall 
specify, — 130 

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
say, to serve — 

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve 
the Jew, and have a desire, — as my father shall 
specify, — 

Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's 
reverence, are scarce cater-cousins, — 

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, 
having done me wrong, doth cause me, — as my 
father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify 140 
unto you, — 

Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be- 
stow upon your worship, and my suit is, — 

32 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. a. 

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, 
as your worship shall know by this honest old 
man ; and, though I say it, though old man, 
yet poor man, my father. 

Bass. One speak for both. What would you ? 

Laun. Serve you, sir. 

Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 150 

Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit: 
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day. 
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
To leave a rich Jew's service to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between 
my master Shylock and you, sir : you have the 
grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. 

Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy 
son. 
Take leave of thy old master and inquire i6o 

My lodging out. Give him a livery 
More guarded than his fellow's : see it done. 

Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man 
in Italy have a fairer table which doth offel to 
swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. 
Go to, here 's a simple line of life : here 's a 
small trifle of wives : alas, fifteen wives is 
nothing 1 eleven widows and nine maids is a 

33 



Aetn. scU. THE MERCHANT 

simple coming-in for one man : and then to 'scape 170 
drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life 
with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are simple 
scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she 's a 
good wench for this gear. Father, come ; I '11 
take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an 
eye. [jExeunf Launcelot and Old Gobbo. 

Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
These things being brought and orderly bestow'd, 
Return in haste, for 1 do feast to-night 
My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. i8o 

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gratiano. Where is your master ? 
Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. 

[Exif. 
Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 
Bass. Gratiano 1 
Gra. I have a suit to you. 
Bass. You have obtain'd it. 

Gra. You must not deny me : I must go with 

you to Belmont. 
Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, 190 
Gratiano : 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
Parts that become thee happily enough, 

34 



OF VENICE Act II. sc. a. 

And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
But where thou art not known, why there they 

show 
Something too Hberal. Pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild 

behaviour, 
I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
And lose my hopes. 

Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: 200 

If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ' amen,' 
Use all the observance of civility, 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
To please his grandama, never trust me more. 

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge 210 
me 
By what we do to-night. 

Bass. No, that were pity : 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 
I have some business. 

35 



Actn. sc.iii. THE MERCHANT 

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 

But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. 

77ie same. A room in ShyJock 'j house. 

Enter Jessica and Laiincelot. 

Jessica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee : 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
And so farewell : I would not have my father 
See me in talk with thee. 

Laun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most lo 
beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew ! But, adieu : 
these foolish drops do something drown my 
manly spirit : adieu. 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot. 

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be ashamed to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit. 20 
36 



OF VENICE Act n. sc. iv. 

Scene IV. 

7^e same. A street. 

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino and Salanio. 

Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, 

Disguise us at my lodging, and return 

All in an hour. 
Gra. We have not made good preparation. 
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, 

And better in my mind not undertook. 
Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 

To furnish us. 

Enter Launcelot with a letter. 

Friend Launcelot, what 's the news ? 
Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it lo 

shall seem to signify. 
Lor. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 

And whiter than the paper it writ on 

Is the fair hand that writ. 
Gra. Love-news, in faith. 

Laun. By your leave, sir. 
Lor. Whither goest thou ? 
Laut\. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 

sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
37 



Aotn. se.ir. THE MERCHANT 

Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica 

I will not fail her; speak it privately. 20 

Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Salar. Ay, marry, I '11 begone about it straight. 

Salan. And so will I. 

Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 

Salar. 'Tis good we do so \JExeunt Salar. and Salan. 

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 

Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's house ; 30 
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with ; 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
Unless she do it under this excuse, 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt 



38 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. v. 

Scene V. 
77te same. Before Shylock's house. 
Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be the judge, 
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What, Jessica I — thou shalt not gormandise, 
As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica 1 — - 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 
Laun. Why, Jessica 1 

Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that I 
could do nothing without bidding. 

Enter Jessica, 

Jes. Call you ? what is your will ? lo 

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 

There are my keys. But wherefore should I go ? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
But yet I '11 go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. I am right loath to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master 
doth expect your reproach. 20 

39 



JLctn. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 

Shy. So do I his. 

Laun. And they have conspired together: I will 
not say you shall see a masque ; but if you do, 
then it was not for nothing that my nose fell 
a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o'clock 
i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
Wednesday was four year, in the afternoon. 

Shy. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, 
Jessica : 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum, 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30 

Clamber not you up to the casements then. 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. 

Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 40 
window, for all this , 
There will come a Christian by, 
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [£xtf. 

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 
Jes. His words were ' Farewell, mistress ; ' nothing 
else. 

40 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. vi. 

Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat; drones hive not with 

me; 
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 50 

His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in : 
Perhaps I will return immediately : 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
Fast bind, fast find, 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [£xtt 

Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [JSxif. 

Scene VI. 
TJte Same. 

Enter Gratiano and Salarino masqued. 

Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 

Desired us to make stand. 
Salar. His hour is almost past. 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 

For lovers ever run before the clock, 
Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 

To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are 
wont 

To keep obliged faith unforfeited 1 

41 



Actn. sc. vi. THE MERCHANT 

era. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again lo 

His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that 

are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younker or a prodigal 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind I 
How Uke the prodigal doth she return, 
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails. 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind 1 

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this here- 
after. 20 
Enter Lorenzo. 

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long 
abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait : 
When you shall chose to play the thieves for 

wives, 
I '11 watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho I who 's within ? 

Enter Jessica, above, in hofs clothes. 
Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
Albeit I '11 swear that I do know your tongue. 
42 



OF VENICE Aetn. sc.vi. 

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed, 

For who love I so much ? And now who knows 30 

But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that 

thou art. 
Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 

I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 

For I am much ashamed of my exchange : 

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 

The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 

For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 

To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40 
Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 

They in themselves, good sooth, are too too 
light. 

Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 

And I should be obscured. 
Lor. So are you, sweet. 

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 

But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway, 

And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 

With some mo ducats, and be with you straight. 50 

[Exit above. 
43 



Act n. So. vi. THE MERCHANT 

Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 

For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 

And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 

And true she is, as she hath proved herself ; 

And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 

Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jessica below. 

What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away 1 
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 

[Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 

Enter Antonio, 
Ant. Who's there ? 60 

Gra. Signior Antonio 1 
Ant Fie, fie, Gratlano ; where are all the rest ? 

'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you. 

No masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 

Bassanio presently will go aboard : 

I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
Gra. I am glad on 't : I desire no more delight 

Than to be under sail and gone to-night. 

[Exeunt. 



44 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. vu. 

Scene VII. 
Belmont. A root?i in Portia's house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia with the Prince 
of Morocco and their trains. 
Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. 
Now make your choice. 
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 
* Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 

desire ; ' 
The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves ; ' 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 

hath.' 
How shall I know if I do choose the right? lo 

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince ; 

If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
Il/lor. Some god direct my judgment I Let me see ; 
I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
What says this leaden casket ? 
' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 

hath.' 
Must give, — for what ? for lead ? hazard for 
lead? 

45 



Act n. sc. vii. THE MERCHANT 

This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 

Do it in hope of fair advantages : 

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 20 

I '11 then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 

What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 

' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 

deserves,' 
As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Moroco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
Thou dost deserve enough : and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady : 
And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 

As much as I deserve 1 Why, that's the lady : 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
In graces and in qualities of breeding : 
But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ? 
Let 's see once more this saying paved in gold ; 
' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 

desire.' 
Why, that 's the lady ; all the world desires her ; 
From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 40 
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
46 



OF VENICE Aetn. sc. vu. 

For princes to come view fair Portia : 

The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 

Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 

To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come, 

As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 

One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 

Is 't like that lead contains her ? 'T were dam- 
nation 

To think so base a thought : it were too gross 50 

To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 

Or shall I think in silver she 's immured, 

Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 

O sinful thought 1 Never so rich a gem 

Was set in worse than gold. They have in 
England 

A coin that bears the figure of an angel 

Stamped in gold, but that 's insculp'd upon ; 

But here an angel in a golden bed 

Lies all within. Deliver me the key : 

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may 1 60 

Por. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie 
there, 

Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket, 
Mor. ^ O hell 1 what have we here ? 

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 

There is a written scroll 1 I'll read the writing. 

[Reads'] All that glisters is not gold ; 
47 



Aetn. sc.viii. THE MERCHANT 

Often have you heard that told : 
\ Many a man his life hath sold 

/ But my outside to behold : 

Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold, 70 

Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
Your answer had not been inscroll'd : 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
Cold, indeed ; and labour lost : 
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost 1 
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 

[£xtt with his train. Flourish 0/ cornets. 

Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt, 

Scene VIII. 

Venice. A street. 

Enter Salarino and Salanio. 

Safar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail : 
With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the 
Duke 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
Sa/ar. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 

48 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. vm. 

But there the Duke was given to understand 

That in a gondola were seen together 

Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 

Besides, Antonio certified the Duke lo 

They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 

Sa/an. I never heard a passion so confused, 
So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
' My daughter 1 O my ducats ! O my daughter 1 
Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats I 
Justice ! the law I my ducats, and my daughter 1 
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter I 
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious 

stones, 2o 

Stolen by my daughter ! Justice 1 find the girl 1 
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats 1 ' 

Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him. 
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 

Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 

Satar. Marry, well remember'd. 

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
The French and English, there miscarried 
A vessel of our country richly fraught : 30 

I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
49 



Act II. sc. via. THE MERCHANT 

And wished in silence that it were not his. 

Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return : he answer'd, ' Do not so ; 
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 40 

And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
As shall conveniently become you there : ' 
And even then, his eye being big with tears, 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 
He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 

Salan. I think he only loves the world for him. 50 

I pray thee, let us go and find him out. 
And quicken his embraced heaviness 
With some delight or other. 

Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 



50 



OF VENICE Actn. sax. 

Scene IX. 

Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Nerissa and a Servitor. 

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee : draw the curtain 

straight : 
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
And comes to his election presently. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon^ 
Portia^ and their trains. 

For. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince : 
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized : 
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
You must be gone from hence immediately. 

Ar. I am enjoin 'd by oath to observe three things : 
First, never to unfold to any one lo 

Which casket 't was I chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage : 
Lastly, 

If I do fail in fortune of my choice. 
Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

For. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 

51 



Actn. sax. THE MERCHANT 

Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 

To my heart's hope ! Gold, silver, and base lead, 20 

* Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' 
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 

What says the golden chest ? ha I let me see : 

' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' 

What many men desire ! that ' many ' may be meant 

By the fool multitude that choose by show, 

Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, 

Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, 

Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 

Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 

I will not choose what many men desire, 

Because I will not jump with common spirits, 

And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 

Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 

Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 

* Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves : ' 
And well said too ; for who shall go about 

To cozen fortune, and be honourable 

Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 

To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 

O, that estates, degrees and offices 

Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour 

Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! 

How many then should cover that stand bare 1 

How many be commanded that command 1 

52 



OF VENICE Actn. sc. ix. 

How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
From the true seed of honour 1 and how much honour 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
To be new-varnish'd 1 Well, but to my choice : 
' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 5 1 
And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 

[Ife opens the silver casket. 
Pop. [Aside'] Too long a pause for that which you find 

there. 
Ar. What's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
Presenting me a schedule I I will read it. 
How much unlike art thou to Portia I 
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings I 
'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he 

deserves.' 
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 60 

Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 

And of opposed natures. 
Ar. What is here ? 

[Reads'] The fire seven times tried this : 

Seven times tried that judgment is, 
That did never choose amiss. 
Some there be that shadows kiss ; 
Such have but a shadow's bliss : 
There be fools alive, I wis, 
53 



Actjj. sc.ix. THE MERCHANT 

Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 

Take what wife you will to bed, 70 

I will ever be your head : 

So be gone : you are sped. 

Still more fool I shall appear 

By the time I linger here : 

With one fool's head I came to woo, 

But I go away with two. 

Sweet, adieu. I '11 keep my oath. 

Patiently to bear my wroth. 

[Exeunt Arragon and train, 
Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 

O, these deliberate fools I when they do choose, 80 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy. 

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. Where is my lady? 

Por. Here : what would my lord I 

Serr. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. 
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90 
54 



OF VENICE Act in. sa. 

Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand, 
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
Thou spend 'st such high-day wit in praising him. 
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. i oo 

Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be 1 [Exeunt. 

ACT THIRD. 

Scene I. 

Venice. A Street. 

Enter Salanio and Salarino. 

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 

SaJar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that 
Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked 
on the narrow seas ; the Goodwins, I think 
they call the place ; a very dangerous flat and 
fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall 
ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip 
Report be an honest woman of her word. 

Satan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that 

55 



Actm. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

as ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbors lo 
believe she wept for the death of a third hus- 
band. But it is true, without any slips of pro- 
lixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, 
that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, — 
O that I had a title good enough to keep his 
name company I — 
Salar. Come, the full stop. 
Salan. Ha 1 what sayest thou ? Why, the end is, 

he hath lost a ship. 
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses. 20 
Salan. Let me say ' amen ' betimes, lest the devil 
cross my prayer, for here he comes in the 
likeness of a Jew. 

Enter Shy lock. 

How now, Shylockl what news among the 
merchants ? 

Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as 
you, of my daughter's flight. 

Salar. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the 
tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the 30 
bird was fledged ; and then it is the com- 
plexion of them all to leave the dam. 

Shy. She is damned for it. 

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 

S6 



OF VENICE Actni. sa. 

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel I 

Salan. Out upon it, old carrion 1 rebels it at these 
years ? 

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 

Salar. There is more difference between thy 
flesh and hers than between jet and ivory ; 40 
more between your bloods than there is 
between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, 
do you hear whether Antonio have had any 
loss at sea or no ? 

Shy. There I have another bad match, a bank- 
rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his 
head on the Rialto ; a beggar, that was used 
to come so smug upon the mart ; let him look 
to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; 
let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend 50 
money for a Christian courtesy ; let him look 
to his bond. 

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
take his flesh : what's that good for ? 

Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing 
else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced 
me, and hindered me half a million ; laughed at 
my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my 
nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, 
heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I 60 
am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a 
57 



Aetm. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with 
the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
healed by the same means, warmed and cooled 
by the same winter and summer, as a Christian 
is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you 
tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do 
we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we will 70 
resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Chris- 
tian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a 
Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffer- 
ance be by Christian example ? Why, revenge. 
The villany you teach me, I will execute ; and 
it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 

Enter a Servant. 

Sery. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
house, and desires to speak with you both. 
Sa/ar. We have been up and down to seek him. 

Enter Tubal. 

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third 80 
cannot be matched, unless the devil himself 
turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. 

Shy. How now. Tubal I what news from Genoa ? 
hast thou found my daughter ? 

58 



OF VENICE Act 127. Se. i. 

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but can- 
not find her. 

Shy- Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond 
gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort 1 
The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; 
I never felt it till now: two thousand ducats 90 
in that; and other precious, precious jewels. 
I would my daughter were dead at my foot, 
and the jewels in her ear ! would she were 
hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin 1 
No news of them? Why, so: — and I know 
not what 's spent in the search : why, thou loss 
upon loss 1 the thief gone with so much, and so 
much to find the thief ; and no satisfaction, no 
revenge : nor no ill luck stirring but what lights 
on my shoulders ; no sighs but of my breathing ; 100 
no tears but of my shedding. 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as 
I heard in Genoa, — 

Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 

Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from 
Tripolis. 

Shy. I thank God, I thank God 1 Is 't true, is 't 
true? 

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped 
the wreck. no 



59 



Actm. Sex. THE MERCHANT 

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal : good news, good 
news 1 ha, ha 1 where ? in Genoa ? 

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in 
one night fourscore ducats. 

Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never 
see my gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting 1 
fourscore ducats 1 

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 
my company to Venice, that swear he cannot 
choose but break. 120 

Shy. I am very glad of it : I '11 plague him ; I '11 
torture him : I am glad of it. 

Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had 
of your daughter for a monkey. 

Shy. Out upon her 1 Thou torturest me, Tubal : 
it was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I 
was a bachelor : I would not have given it for 
a wilderness of monkeys. 

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shy. Nay, that 's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, 130 
fee me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight 
before. I will have the heart of him, if he 
forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can make 
what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and 
meet me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; 
at our synagogue, Tubal [Exeunt 



60 



OF VENICE Aetm. Se.a. 

Scene II. 

Belmont. A room iti Portions house. 

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa and 
Attendants. 

For. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile. 
There 's something tells me, but it is not love, 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you lo 
How to choose right, but I am then forsworn ; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours. 
And so all yours 1 O, these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights I 
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20 
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
61 



Actm. Sea. THE MERCHANT 

I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 

To eke it and to draw it out in length, 

To stay you from election. 
Bass. Let me choose ; 

For as I am, I live upon the rack. 
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio I then confess 

What treason there is mingled with your love. 
Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 

Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 

There may as well be amity and life 30 

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
PKiF. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 

Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
Bass. Promise me life, and I '11 confess the truth. 
Por. Well then, confess and live. 
Bass ' Confess,' and * love,' 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 

O happy torment, when my torturer 

Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 

But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
Por. Away, then 1 I am lock'd in one of them : 40 

If you do love me, you will find me out. 

Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 

Let music sound while he doth make his 
choice ; 

Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 

Fading in music : that the comparison 
62 



OF VENICE Act m. sc. a. 

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 

stream, 
And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 
And what is music then ? Then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 50 

As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
With no less presence, but with much more love, 
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
The Virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 
With bleared visages, come forth to view 
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules 1 60 

Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay 
I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 

Music, while Bassanio comments on the casket to himself. 

Song. 

Tell me where is fancy bred, 
Or in the heart or in the head ? 
How begot, how nourished ? 

Reply, reply. 
It is engender'd in the eyes, 

63 



Actiu. Sen. THE MERCHANT 

With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 70 

I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
All. Ding, dong, bell. 

Bass. So may the outward shows be least them- 
selves : 
The world is still deceived with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 80 

There is no vice so simple but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ; 
And these assume but valour's excrement 
-^ . To render them redoubted I Look on beauty. 
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 

Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
64 



OF VENICE Act m. sc. a. 

Upon supposed fairness, often known 

To be the dowry of a second head, 

The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 

Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 

To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 

Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word. 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on loo 

To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy 

gold, 
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre 

lead. 
Which rather threatenest than dost promise 

aught. 
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence ; 
And here choose I : joy be the consequence 1 
Por. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 
And shuddering fear, and greed-eyed jealousy I no 

love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 

In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess I 

1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less, 
For fear I surfeit ! 

Bass. What find I here ? 

\Openhig the leaden casket. 
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi god 

6S 



Actm. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her 120 

hairs 
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men. 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this 

shadow 
In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
Doth limp behind the substance. Here 's the 

scroll, 
The continent and summary of my fortune. 130 

[Reads] You that choose not by the view. 

Chance as fair, and choose as true 1 

Since this fortune falls to you, 

Be content and seek no new. 

If you be well pleased with this, 

And hold your fortune for your bliss, 

Turn you where your lady is. 

And claim her with a loving kiss. 
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; 
66 



OF VENICE Act in. sc. u. 

I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 

Like one of two contending in a prize, 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
Hearing applause and universal shout. 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
So, thricc-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 

Such as I am : though for myself alone 150 

I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
More rich ; 

That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
Exceed accoimt ; but the full sum of me 
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross. 
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; 160 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn ; happier than this, 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
67 



Actm. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 

Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
Queen o'er myself ; and even now, but now, 170 
This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 180 

Among the buzzing pleased multitude. 
Where every something, being blent together. 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd and not express'd. But when this 

ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead 1 

Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time. 

That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper. 
To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady 1 

Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 190 

I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me ; 
68 



OF VENICE Actm. sat 

And when your honours mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
You loved, I loved ; for intermission 200 

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
For wooing here until I sweat again, 
And swearing till my very roof was dry 
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
I got a promise of this fair one here 
To have her love, provided that your fortune 
Achieved her mistress. 

Por. Is this true, Nerissa ? 

Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 210 

Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 

Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. 

Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your 
marriage. 

Gra. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his 
infidel ? 
What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio ? 



69 



Act in. So. a. THE MERCHANT 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from 
Venice. 
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; 

If that the youth of my new interest here 

Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 

I bid my very friends and countrymen, 

Sweet Portia, welcome. 
Por. So do I, my lord: 220 

They are entirely welcome. 
Lor. I thank your hohour. For my part, my lord, 

My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 

But meeting with Salerio by the way. 

He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 

To come with him along. 
Sa/er. I did, my lord ; 

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 

Commends him to you. 

[Gives Bassanio a letter. 
Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. 
Sa/er. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 230 

Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 

Will show you his estate. 
Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 

Your hand, Salerio : what's the news from 
Venice ? 

How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
70 



OF VENICE Actm. sc. u. 

I know he will be glad of our success ; 
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
Safer. I would you had won the fleece that he 

hath lost. 
Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same 
paper, 
That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 240 
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the 

world 
Could turn so much the constitution 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse I 
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 
And I must freely have the half of anything 
That this same paper brings you. 
Bass. O sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
When I did first impart my love to you, \ 

\ I freely told you all the wealth I had 25)0 

I Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
I And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself as nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
My state was nothing, I should then have told 

you 
That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 
I have engaged myself to a very dear friend, 
71 



Act in. sc.il. THE MERCHANT 

Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 

The paper as the body of my friend, 260 

And every word in it a gaping wound, 

Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio ? 

Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one 

hit? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? 
And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks ? 

Sa/er. Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 270 

A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
He plies the Duke at morning and at night, 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear 280 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
72 



OF VENICE Actm. Sc.u. 

Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
If law, authority and power deny not, 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 

Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best-condition 'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 290 

The ancient Roman honour more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 

Por. What, no more ? 

Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife. 
And then away to Venice to your friend ; 300 

For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away I 
For you shall hence upon your wedding day : 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 
73 



Actm. sou. THE MERCHANT 

Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 3 1 o 

Bass, [reads'] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all 
miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is 
very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and since 
in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts 
are cleared between you and I. If I might but 
see you at my death ! Notwithstanding, use your 
pleasure : if your love do not persuade you to come, 
let not my letter. 

Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 

Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 320 
I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 

No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. 

Venice. A street. 

Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 

Shy. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy; 

This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 

Gaoler, look to him. 
Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shy. I '11 have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 

I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 

Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
74 



OF VENICE Act in. sou. 

But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs: 

The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 

Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 

To come abroad with him at his request. lo 

Ant I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
I '11 have no speaking : I will have my bond. \Exit. 

Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
That ever kept with men. 

Ant Let him alone : 

I '11 follow him no more with bootless prayers. 20 

He seeks my life ; his reason well I know : 

I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 

Many that have at times made moan to me ; 

Therefore he hates me. 

Salar. I am sure the Duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Ant The Duke cannot deny the course of law : 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied. 
Will much impeach the justice of his state ; 
Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 

Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 

75 



Actm. sc.iv. THE MERCHANT 

These griefs and losses have so bated me, 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! 

[£xeunf. 

Scene IV. 
Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
You have a noble and a true conceit 
Of god-like amity, which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
How true a gentleman you send relief. 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Por. I never did repent for doing good, lo 

Nor shall not now : for in companions 
That do converse and waste the time together. 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit ; 
Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
76 



OF VENICE Actni. sc.iv. 

Being the bosom lover of my lord, 

Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 

How little is the cost I have bestow'd 

In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 

From out the state of hellish misery 1 

This comes too near the praising of myself ; 

Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 

Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 

The husbandry and manage of my house 

Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 

I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 

To live in prayer and contemplation, 

Only attended by Nerissa here, 

Until her husband and my lord's return : 30 

There is a monastery two miles off ; 

And there will we abide. I do desire you 

Not to deny this imposition ; 

The which my love and some necessity 

Now lays upon you. 
Lor. Madam, with all my heart : 

I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
Por. My people do already know my mind, 

And will acknowledge you and Jessica 

In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 

And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40 

Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on 
you I 

77 



Act III. sc.iv. THE MERCHANT 

Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
For. I thank you for your wish, and am well 
pleased 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 
\Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
Now, Balthasar, 

As I have ever found thee honest-true. 
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand. Doctor Bellario ; 50 

And, look, what notes and garments he doth 

give thee, 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words. 
But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 

{Exit. 
For. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of ; we '11 see our hus- 
bands 
Before they think of us. 
Ner. Shall they see us ? 

For. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 60 

That they shall think we are accomplished 
With that we lack. I '11 hold thee any wager, 
78 



OF VENICE Actm. Sc.iv. 

When we are both accoutred like young men, 

I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two, 

And wear my dagger with a braver grace, 

And speak between the change of man and boy 

With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 

Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 

Like a fine bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies. 

How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 

I could not do withal : then I '11 repent. 

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 

And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell. 

That men shall swear I have discontinued school 

Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 

Which I will practice. 

Ner. Why, shall we turn to men ? 

Por. Fie, what a question 's that, 

If thou wert near a lewd interpreter ! 80 

But come, I '11 tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park-gate ; and therefore haste away. 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 

[Exeunt. 



79 



Act in. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 

Scene V. 
7^e same. A garden. 

Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 

Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the 
father are to be laid upon the children : 
therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was 
always plain with you, and so now I speak my 
agitation of the matter : therefore be of good 
cheer ; for, truly, I think you are damned. 
There is but one hope in it that can do you 
any good : and that is but a kind of bastard 
hope neither. 

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee ? i o 

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father 
got you not, that you are not the Jew's 
daughter. 

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so 
the sins of my mother should be visited upon 
me. 

Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 
father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla, 
your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother : 
well, you are gone both ways. 20 

Jes. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath 
made me a Christian. 

80 



OF VENICE Act in. sc v. 

Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we were 
Christians enow before ; e'en as many as could 
well live, one by another. This making of 
Christians will raise the price of hogs : if we 
grow all to be pork-eaters we shall not shortly 
have a rasher on the coals for money. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Jes. I '11 tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : 
here he comes. 30 

Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 
if you thus get my wife into corners. 

Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: 
Launcelot and I are out. He tells me flatly 
there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I 
am a Jew's daughter : and he says you are no 
good member of the commonwealth ; for, in 
converting Jews to Christians, you raise the 
price of pork. 

Lor. How every fool can play upon the word ! I 40 
think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into 
silence ; and discourse grow commendable in 
none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah ; bid 
them prepare for dinner. 

Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 

Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you I 
then bid them prepare dinner. 
81 



Actni. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 

Laun. That is done too, sir ; only ' cover ' is the 
word. 

Lor. Will you cover, then, sir ? 50 

Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 

Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion 1 Wilt 
thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an 
instant ? I pray thee, understand a plain man 
in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid 
them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we 
will come in to dinner. 

Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for 
the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your com- 
ing in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours 60 
and conceits shall govern. [£xtt 

Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited 1 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words ; and I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion. 
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 

Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 70 

The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady. 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
82 



OF VENICE Act in. sc. v. 

In reason he should never come to heaven. 

Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 
match 

And on the wager lay two earthly women, 

And Portia one, there must be something else 

Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world 

Hath not her fellow. 
Lor. Even such a husband 80 

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
Lor. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 
Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 
Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 

Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other 
things 

I shall digest it. 
Jes. Well, I '11 set you forth. [Exeunf. 



83 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 



ACT FOURTH. 

Scene I. 

Venice. A court of justice. 

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 

Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 
knt Ready, so please your Grace. 
Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to an- 
swer 

A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 

Uncapable of pity, void and empty 

From any dram of mercy. 
Ant. I have heard 

Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 

His rigorous course ; but since he stands ob- 
durate, 

And that no lawful means can carry me 

Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose i 

My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd 

To suffer, with a quietness of spirit. 

The very tyranny and rage of his. 
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

84 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 

Safer. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 

Enter Shylock. 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our 
face. 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then 't is thought 
Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more 

strange 20 

Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty. 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, 
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture. 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enow to press a royal merchant down, 
And pluck commiseration of his state 30 

From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint. 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
Shy. I have possess 'd your Grace of what I pur- 
pose ; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 

85 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 

If you deny it, let the danger light 

Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 

You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have 40 

A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 

Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that : 

But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? 

What if my house be troubled with a rat. 

And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 

To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 

Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 

Some that are mad if they behold a cat ; 

for affection, 
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 50 

Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your 

answer, 
As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 

but of force 
Must yield to such inevitable shame 
As to offend, himself being offended ; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 60 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 

86 



OF VENICE Act IV. so. 

To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Sfiy. I am not bound to please thee with my 
answer. 

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? 

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting 
thee twice ? 

Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 
You may as well go stand upon the beach, 70 

And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf, 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do any thing most hard, 
As seek to soften that — than which what's 

harder ? — 
His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, 
Make no more offers, use no farther means, 80 

But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 
87 



Act IV. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering 

none ? 
Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no 
wrong? 
You have among you many a purchased slave, 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and 

mules, 90 

You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be season 'd with such viands? You will answer 
' The slaves are ours : ' so do I answer you : 
The pound of flesh which I demand of him 
Is dearly bought ; 't is mine and I will have it. 
If you deny me, fie upon your law 1 1 00 

There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court. 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
Come here to-day. 

Sa/ar. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 

88 



OF VENICE Actnr. sc.i. 

Bass. Good cheer, Antonio I What, man, courage 

yet 1 no 

The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and 

all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 

Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me : 
You cannot better be employ 'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer'' s clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
Ner. From both my lord. Bellario greets your 
Grace. 

[Presenting a letter. 
Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 120 
Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt 

there. 
Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keen- 
ness 
Of thy sharp env}'. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog 1 
And for thy life let justice be accused. 
89 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 

To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 130 

That souls of animals infuse themselves 

Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 

Govern 'd a wolf who, hang'd for human 

slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam. 
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are woolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond. 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 140 

To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. 
Where is he ? 

/fer. He attendeth here hard by, 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

Clerk, [reads] Your Grace shall understand that at 
the receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in the 150 
instant that your messenger came, in loving visita- 
tion was with me a young doctor of Rome ; his 
name is Balthasar. J acquainted him with the 
90 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 

cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio 
the merchant: we turned o'er many books together : 
he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered 
with his own learning, — the greatness whereof 
I cannot enough comtnend, — comes with him, at 
my opportunity, to fill up your Grace's request in 
my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be 1 60 
no impediment to let him lack a reverend estima- 
tion ; for I never knew so young a body with so 
old a head. I leave him to your gracious accep- 
tance, whose trial shall better publish his com- 
mendation. 
Duke. You hear the learn 'd Bellario, what he writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

Enter Portia for Balthasar. 

Give me your hand. Come you from old 

Bellario ? 
Por. I did, my lord. 
Duke. You are welcome: take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the diiference 170 

That holds this present question in the court ? 
Por. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 

Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
Por. Is your name Shylock ? 
Shy. Shylock is my name. 

91 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
You stand within his danger, do you not ? 

l^nt. Ay, so he says. 

Por. Do you confess the bond ? i8o 

Ant I do. 

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 

Por. The quality of mercy is not strain 'd, 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 190 

Whereui doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
That, in the course of justice, none of us ^ 

Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 200 
92 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc. 1. 

The needs of mercy. I have spoke thus much 

To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 

Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 

Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant 
there. 
Shy. My deeds upon my head I I crave the law, 

The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 

Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 

I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 210 

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech 
you. 

Wrest once the law to your authority : 

To do a great right, do a little wrong, 

And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 

Can alter a decree established : 

'T will be recorded for a precedent. 

And many an error, by the same example, 220 

Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 
Shy. A Daniel come to judgment 1 yea, a Daniel 1 
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee I 
Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
Shy. Here 't is, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

93 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Por. Shylock, there 's thrice thy money oflfer'd thee. 

S/iy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven ; 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
No, not for Venice. 

Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 230 

A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful : 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law, your exposition 
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment : by my soul 1 swear 
There is no power in the tongue of man 240 

To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 

Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Por. Why then, thus it is : 

You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

Shy. O noble judge 1 O excellent young man 1 

Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. 'T is very true : O wise and upright judge 1 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks 1 250 
94 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc.L 

Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 

Shy. Ay, his breast : 

So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge ? — 

' Nearest his heart : ' those are the very words. 
Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 

The flesh ? 
Shy. I have them ready. 

Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your 
charge, 

To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
Por. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 

'T were good you do so much for charity. 260 

Shy. I cannot find it ; 't is not in the bond. 
Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
Ant. But little : I am arm'd and well prepared. 

Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 

Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 

For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 

Than is her custom : it is still her use 

To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 

To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 

An age of poverty, from which lingering penance 270 

Of such misery doth she cut me off. 

Commend me to your honourable wife : 

Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 

Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ; 
95 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 

Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 

Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 

And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 

For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 

I '11 pay it presently with all my heart. 280 

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for 
that, 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 

I would she were in heaven, so she could 290 

Entreat some power to change this currish 
Jew. 

Ner. 'T is well you offer it behind her back ; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a 
daughter ; 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! 

\^Aside. 
We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
96 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 

For. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is 
thine : 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Shy. Most rightful judge I 300 

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shy. Most learned judge I A sentence ! Come, 
prepare 1 

Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
The words expressly are ' a pound of flesh : ' 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 310 

Unto the state of Venice. 

Gra. O upright judge 1 Mark, Jew : O learned 
judge 1 

Shy. Is that the law ? 

Por. Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 

Gra. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned 
judge 1 

Shy. I take this offer, then : pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian go. 

Bass. Here is the money, 

97 



Act IV. sc.i, THE MERCHANT 

Por. Soft I 

The Jew shall have all justice; soft I no haste: 320 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gra. O Jew 1 an upright judge, a learned judge I 

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more 
But just a pound of flesh : if thou cut'st more 
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
Or the division of the twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, 330 

Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew 1 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture. 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

Por. He hath refused it in the open court : 
He shall have merely justice and his bond. 

Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel 1 

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 340 

Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it ! 
I '11 stay no longer question. 
98 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 

Por. Tarry, Jew : 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 

It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 

If it be proved against an alien 

That by direct or indirect attempts 

He seek the life of any citizen, 350 

The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 

Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 

Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 

And the offender's life lies in the mercy 

Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 

In which predicament, I say, thou stand 'st; 

For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 

That indirectly, and directly too. 

Thou hast contrived against the very life 

Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 360 

The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 

Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke, 
Gra. Beg thatthou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 

And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 

Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 

Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's 
charge. 
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our 
spirits, 

I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 

For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 

99 



LofC. 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

The other half comes to the general state, 370 

Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 

You take my house, when you do take the prop 

That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, 

When you do take the means whereby I live. 
Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 
Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. 
Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 

To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 380 

I am content ; so he will let me have 

The other half in use, to render it, 

Upon his death, unto the gentleman 

That lately stole his daughter : 

Two things provided more, that, for this favour, 

He presently become a Christian ; 

The other, that he do record a gift. 

Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 

Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 
Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 390 

The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
Por. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 
Shy. I am content. 

Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 

I am not well : send the deed after me. 



OF VENICE Act IV. sc. i. 

And I will sign it. 
Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers : 

Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten 
more, 

To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 

[£xif Shylock. 
Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 400 
Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : 

I must away this night toward Padua, 

And it is meet I presently set forth. 
Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 

Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 

For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

\_Exeunt Duke and his train. 
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 

Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 

Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 

Three thousands ducats, due unto the Jew, 410 

We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
Ant And stand indebted, over and above, 

In love and service to you evermore. 
Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 

And I, delivering you, am satisfied. 

And therein do account myself well paid : 

My mind was never yet more mercenary. 

I pray you, know me when we meet again : 

lOI 



Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: 420 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
Give me your gloves, I '11 wear them for your sake ; 

[To Ant. 
And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from you : 

[To Bass. 
Do not draw back your hand; I '11 take no 

more; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 
Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 

I will not shame myself to give you this. 430 

Por. I will have nothing else but only this ; 

And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
Bass. There 's more depends on this than on the 
value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
And find it out by proclamation : 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 

You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
You teach me how a beggar should be 
answer'd. 
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 440 
loa 



OF VENICE Act nr. sc. a. 

And when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 

Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their 
gifts. 
An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
And know how well I have deserved the ring, 
She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you 1 

[^Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 

Ant My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring ; 
Let his deservings and my love withal 
Be valued 'gainst your wife's conunandment. 450 

Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 

Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, 
Unto Antonio's house : away 1 make haste. 

[£xtf Gratiano. 
Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. 

Scene II. 

The same. A street. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this 
deed 
And let him sign it : we '11 away to-night 
103 



Actnr. Sen. THE MERCHANT 

And be a day before our husbands home : 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Cra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en : 

My Lord Bassanio upon more advice 

Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 

Your company at dinner. 
Por. That cannot be : 

His ring I do accept most thankfully ; 

And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, lo 

I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
Gra. That will I do. 
Ner. Sir, I would speak with you. 

I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 

[Aside to Portia. 

Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
Por. [Aside to Ner."] Thou mayst, I warrant. We 
shall have old swearing 

That they did give the rings away to men ; 

But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 

[Aloud.'] Away ! make haste : thou know'st 
where I will tarry. 
Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
house ? [Exeunt. 



104 



OF VENICE • Actv. sc.i. 



ACT FIFTH. Scene I. 

Belmont. Avenue to Portions house. 

Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 

Lor. The moon shines bright : in such a night as 
this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
And they did make no noise, in such a night 
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night. 

Jes. In such a night 

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew. 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
And ran dismay'd away. 

Lor. In such a night 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand lo 

Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jes. In such a night 

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old ^son. 

Lor. In such a night 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
105 



^ot V. sc. i. THE MERCHANT 

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 

As far as Belmont. 
Jes. In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 

Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 

And ne'er a true one. 
Lor. In such a night 20 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 

Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come ; 

But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter Stephana. 

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 

Stepb. A friend. "^ 

Lor. A friend ? what friend ? your name, I pray 
you, friend ? 

Steph. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 30 

By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 

Lor. Who comes with her ? 

Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
106 



OF VENICE Act V. sc. L 

And ceremoniously let us prepare 

Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Laun. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho I sola, sola 1 

Lor. Who calls ? 40 

Laun. Sola 1 did you see Master Lorenzo ? 

Master Lorenzo, sola, sola I 
Lor. Leave hollaing, man : here. 
Laun. Sola ! where ? where ? 
Lor. Here. 

Laun. Tell him there 's a post come from my 
master, with his horn full of good news : my 
master will be here ere morning. [Exit. 

Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their 
coming. 
And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 50 

My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
And bring your music forth into the air. 

[Exit Stephano. 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this 

bank! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
107 



Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 60 

But in his motion like an angel sings, 

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 

Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn 1 
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
And draw her home with music. \Music. 

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 70 

For do but note a wild and wanton herd. 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing 

loud, 
Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand. 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
By the sv/eet power of music : therefore the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and 

floods ; 80 

Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 
108 



OF VENICE Act V. sc. 1. 

But music for the time doth change his nature. 

The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; j 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 

And his affections dark as Erebus: 

Let no such man be trusted/ Mark the music. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 

How far that little candle throws his beams 1 90 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the 
candle. 

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: 
A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
Until a king be by ; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music 1 Hark I 

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 

Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 100 

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
When neither is attended ; and I think 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 



109 



Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

When every goose is cackling, would be 
thought 

No better a musician than the wren. 

How many things by season season'd are 

To their right praise and true perfection I 

Peace, ho 1 the moon sleeps with Endymion, 

And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. 

Lor. That is the voice, no 

Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
For. He knows me as the blind man knows the 
cuckoo, 

By the bad voice. 
Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 

For. We have been praying for our husbands' 
healths. 

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 

Are they return'd ? 
Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; 

But there is come a messenger before, 

To signify their coming. 
For. Go in, Nerissa; 

Give order to my servants that they take 

No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120 

Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. 

\_A tucket sounds. 
Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 

We are no tell-tales, madame ; fear you not. 
no 



OF VENICE Act V. sc. i. 

Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
It looks a little paler : 't is a day, 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers. 

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
If you would walk in absence of the sun. 

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 

For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 
And never be Bassanio so for me : 
But God sort all I You are welcome home, my 
lord. 

Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my 
friend. 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Ant No more than I am well acquitted of. 

Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 

It must appear in other ways than words, 140 

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

Gra. [To Nerissd] By yonder moon I swear you 
do me wrong ; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk : 
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 



Act V. sc. i. THE MERCHANT 

Por. A quarrel, ho, already I what 's the matter ? 

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me, whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not.' 150 

Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
You should have been respective, and have 

kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk I no, God 's my judge, 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that 
had it. 

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

lifer. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160 

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

For. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring, and nade him swear 170 
112 



OF VENICE Act V. sc. i. 

Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
An 't were to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bass. [Asiue] Why, I were best to cut my left 
hand off, 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 

Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed i8o 

Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd 

mine : 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? 

Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 

By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 190 

Until I see the ring. 

f/er. Nor I in yours 

Till I again see mine. 

Bass. Sweet Portia, 

113 



Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your dis- 
pleasure. 

Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 

Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 

Or your own honour to contain the ring, 

You would not then have parted with the ring. 

What man is there so much unreasonable, 

If you had pleased to have defended it 

With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 

To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 

Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 

I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring. 

Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul. 

No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 

And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, 

And suffer'd him to go displeased away ; 

Even he that did uphold the very life 

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet 

lady? 
I was enforced to send it after him ; 
I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
114 



OF VENICE Actv. sc.i. 

My honour would not let ingratitude 

So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 

For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 

Had you been there, I think you would have 
begg'd 

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house, 

Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 

And that which you did swear to keep for me. 
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome not- 
withstanding. 
Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 

And, in the hearing of these many friends, 

I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 230 

Wherein I see myself, — 
Por. Mark you but that 1 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 

In each eye, one : swear by your double self. 

And there 's an oath of credit. 
Bass. Nay, but hear me : 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 

I never more will break an oath with thee. 
Ant I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 

Which, but for him that had your husband's 
ring, 

Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
IIS 



Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 

My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 240 

Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

Ant Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this 
ring. 

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor 1 

Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio. 

filer. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano. 

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
In summer, where the ways are fair enough. 

Por. You are all amazed : 250 

Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you. 
And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ; 
And I have better news in store for you 
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon •, 
There you shall find three of your argosies 260 

Are richly come to harbour suddenly: 
You shall not know by what strange accident 
I chanced on this letter. 

Ant I am dumb. 

Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 

116 



OF VENICE Act V. sc. L 

Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? 

Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, 
Unless he live until he be a man. 

Bass, Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow : 

Ant Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 270 

Are safely come to road. 

Por. How now, Lorenzo 1 

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

Ner. Ay, and I '11 give them him without a fee. 
There do I give to you and Jessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift. 
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Por. It is almost morning. 

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 280 

And charge us there upon inter'gatories, 
And we will answer all things faithfully. 

Gra. Let it be so : the first inter'gatory 
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is. 
Whether till the next night she had rather stay, 
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
Well, while I live I '11 fear no other thing 
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [^Exeunt. 



117 




NOTES. 



The Merchant of Venice was first printed in 1600, when two 
editions were published, bearing the following title pages : 

I. ''The excellent history of the Merchant of Venice. With 
the extreme cruelty of Shylock, the Jew, towards the said Mer- 
chant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh. And the obtaining of 
Portia, by the choyse of three caskets. Written by William 
Shakespeare. Printed by J. Roberts, 1 600." 

This edition, which is known as the first quarto,was registered on 
July 22d, 1598, with the following proviso, " that it be not printed 
by the said James Roberts or any other whatsoever without lycence 
first had from the Right Honorable the Lord Chamberlin." 

II. " The most excellent Historie of the Merchant of Venice. 
With the extreme cruelty of Shylock, the Jew, toward the said 
merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh : and the obtaining 
of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath been divers 
times acted by the Lord Chamberlin his servants. Written by 
Wilham Shakespeare. At London. Printed by J. R. for Thomas 
Hayes, and are to be sold in Paul's Church Yard, at the sign of 
the Greene Dragon. 1600." 

This quarto, the second, was entered in the stationer's register 

on the 28th of October, 1600. The J. R. of the second quarto 

are probably the initials of the printer of the first quarto. The 

two editions are not printed in the same type, however, and it is 

119 



Act I. sc.L NOTES 

evident from their textual disagreements that they were printed 
from different copies of the author's manuscript. 

A reprint of the second quarto appeared in 1837, with a list 
of the actors' names. A fourth quarto, differing from the third 
only in the title-page, was published in 1652, and was probably 
brought out (this is the suggestion of Professor Hales) to deepen 
the bitter resentment with which the proposed readmission of 
the Jews into England was opposed by a great number of Eng- 
lish people. 

In 1623 was published the first Folio Edition. The text of 
this is, in the main, the same as that of the second quarto, with 
a few changes, the most notable being that of " the Scottish 
Lord" into "the other Lord," evidently out of respect to James 
the First, who was then reigning. 

An abortion called " The Jew of Venice," by George Gran- 
ville, Viscount Lansdowne, appeared in 1701. It seems to have 
won some popularity, for it was acted from 1701 until 1741, when 
Maclin's Shylock, presented at Drury Lane in 1741, put an erd 
to Lansdowne's freak, and brought again before the public the 
work of Shakespeare undefiled. 

The best and most complete edition of the Merchant is the 
work of Horace Howard Furness : The Variorum Shakespeare ; 
Lippincott, 1892. 

ACT I. Scene I. 

9 This passage is a good example of Shakespeare's sensitive- 
to ness to the kinship of words, and the harmonious rela- 

14. tionship of ideas. What a happy resemblance there is 

between " portly sails " and " rich burghers " 1 Portly 
because of the wind, which makes the sails round and 
stout, like the stomach of many a well-fed, prosperous 
citizen. 



NOTES Act I. sc.i. 

13. Curt'sy : The wash from the larger vessels would naturally 

set the " petty traffickers " to bobbing up and down, as 
if really courtesying. 

14. Woven wiugs : " The term wings applied to the sails of 

vessels is of great antiquity, and is found in classical 
writers." — Halliv\^ell 

18. Sits : Used in the present tense to make the description 
more vivid. 

25. Hour-glass : " Clocks and watches being then (in Shake- 
speare's time) but rarely in use, it was thought fit to 
prescribe the length of the sermons of the reformist of 
that time to an hour, that is, the run of an hour-glass." 
Notice how the thought of the sandy hour-glass, suggest- 
ing shallows and flats, leads Salarino to think of the holy 
edifice of stone, which, in turn, reminds him of dangerous 
rocks. HaJliwell remarks that in Shakespeare's day an 
hour-glass was fixed on an iron stand near every pulpit. 

35. Worth this: It would seem that Shakespeare meant "this " 
to include, by an expressive gesture, all the riches of 
the vessel. 

56. Nestor : The oldest of the Greek heroes in the Iliad. As 
he was also the wisest and gravest, his laughing at a 
jest would be sufiicient proof of its excellence. 

80. Old Wrinkles : Gratiano would have merriment, rather 
than old age, draw wrinkles on his face. In laughing 
heartily the countenance is, naturally, somewhat dis- 
torted ; and it is worth while observing that the original 
sense of wrinkle is, " a little twist," wrinkle being a 
diminutive of Anglo Saxon wringan, to wring, hence, to 
distort. Compare 

some Dick, that smiles his cheek in years. 

Love's Labour's Lost, V. ii. 465. 
121 



Act I. sc.i. NOTES 

80 With Mirth — peevish. Bucknill remarks that " in this 
to whole passage the intimate connection between body 

86. and mind is sketched with exact physiological truth," 

and that these are " unquestionably medical thoughts." 
We may be permitted to doubt whether, in causing Gra- 
tiano to speak thus, the poet's thoughts were " medical." 
Gratiano speaks as a keen observer of men, not as a 
student of physiology. 

89. Mantle : " Mantle " would serve of itself to describe this 

sort of visage, but " cream " makes a happy tautology, 
giving, as it does, a picture perfectly descriptive of the 
sort of impostors that Gratiano ridicules. 

90. Wilfull Stillness : Voluntary silence. Some say " obsti- 

nate silence," but obstinate implies resistance to some 
external agent, whereas " willful " is here used in its 
literal sense of " volition on one's own part," the silence 
being entertained for the purpose of appearing wise. 

93. As who : as, or like, one who should say. 

93. I am Sir Oracle : The early Folios read, " I am, sir, an 
oracle." 

There are reasons for thinking " Sir Oracle " better: 
1st, because it is more vain and humorously pompous ; 
2d, because it refers, not to an individual, but to a class. 
Furness thinks that " this very pomposity gives a disa- 
greeable tone." True, and therefore " Sir Oracle " is 
more fitting, as the persons whom Gratiano speaks of 
are exceedingly offensive. 

98. Would : Supply the nominative " they," after *' speak." 

98. Damn : Some people are thought to be wise because of 
their silence, but when they do speak they prove them- 
selves so stupid that their hearers can hardly help call- 
ing them "fools," and so place themselves in danger 



NOTES Act I. sc.i. 

of the punishment set forth in the Gospels (Matt. 

V. 22). 

124. Make moan to be abridged : Complain of my straitened 
circumstances. There are many instances in Middle and 
early Modern English of this use of the gerund for the 
infinitive. Comp., 

"Wythoui to make (i.e. making) any noyse." 

— Caxton, Aymon, 78, 24. 
Too proud to be so valiant, i.e., of being so valiant. 

— Coriolanus, III. i. 2. 
See Abbott, " Shakespearian Grammar," § 356. Also 

Kellner's " Historical Outlines of English Syntax," 

§ 397. Comp. also IV., i. 431 of the present play. 

I will not shame myself to give you this, i.e. by giving,t\.c. 
135. Within the eye of Honor : Within honor's bounds, — " that 

is, within the limits of that which can be regarded as 

honorable." — Clarendon. 
139. The self same flight: With exactly the same aim and 

elevation. — Halliwell. 
142. Childhood proof : The experience of childhood. Comp., — 

That love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyranous 
and rough in proof. 

— Romeo and Juliet, I. i. 176. 
Also, 

What my love is, proof hath made you know. 

— Hamlet, III. ii. 179. 

In Shakespeare the first of two nouns is often the geni- 
tive used adjectively. In this case " childhood " sets a 
limit upon the experience, and denotes the quality or 
worth of it. 
169. Colchos : (See gloss.) 

123 



Act I. sc. u. NOTES 

173, presages: The relative "which" is omitted, in this case 
happily so, as toc> nice a regard for grammatical con 
struction would be out of keeping with Bassanio's 
enthusiasm. 

175. Thou know'st : Compare this confession with his haughty 
reply to Salarino concerning his merchandise (41, 45 of 
the present scene). 

Scene II. 

I. aweary: The prefix a in this word is really a preposition, 
and in this instance is used to denote state, or ccuidi- 
tion. Comp., a-bed, a-board, a-shore, afoot, a-float, 
a-live, etc. In all these words, the prefix a is the modern 
form of the Old English " on," " an." 

3. You would be : We can easily understand, from Nerissa's 
first speech, with its good sense and happy epigrams, 
why the relation between her and Portia is more like 
that of two friends than of maid and mistress. 

23. reasoning : Debating. Portia seems to think that the 
argument does not apply in her case, since even were 
she inclined to skip, in the madness of her youth, over 
the meshes of good counsel, she could not do so, being 
hedged in by the will of her dead father. Chaucer also 
has reason in the sense of opinion ; 

'■'■His reasons he spak ful solempettly.'''' 

Cant. Tales, 1. 274. 

40. I pray thee : Nerissa says " you ; " Portia says " thee." 
Thou was the pronoun used by a superior to a servant, 
but it was also used, as in this instance, in affectionate 
address. It is so employed to-day in European countries. 

44. Neapolitan prince: Portia says of him, "that's a colt in- 
deed," and it may be worthy of remark that in Shake- 
124 



NOTES Acti. sc.iL 

speare 's time the Neapolitans were famous for their skill 
in horsemanship, — but, of course, " colt," in this in- 
stance, means a wild, riotous youngster. 

47. Appropriation : He makes the abihty to shoe his own horse 
an excellent addition to his other talents. 

53. Weeping Philosopher : Heraclitus of Ephesus, misnamed 
the " weeping phOosopher," for his views of life, though 
sober, were not without great truth and nobility. The 
influence of his philosophy has been felt in every age, 
and is still operative. 

55. had rather: Sooner, the comparative of A. S. hrathe, soon, 
early. Comp., 

the rathe primrose. 

Milton, Lycidas. 

58. by the French Lord : The original meaning of " by," as 
here, is " near "" about," "concerning." We still use 
it in this sense when we say that " gold-bug," for in- 
stance, is a by-word for an advocate of the gold stan- 
dard, that is, a direct verbal way of making known his 
principles, in the sense of coming " near " to them. 
Comp. also, by-name ; but not by-law, the by in this 
latter word being, not a preposition, but a noun, — 
Scand. by, town, village. 

63. better bad : That is, worse. Better is here an intensative, 
without the usual implication of goodness. 

73. say to: "Portia playfully uses the phrase 'say to ' in a 
different sense from that Nerissa meant." — Clarendon. 

76. come into court : That is, " you will witness the fact that I 
have very little English." 

83. Scottish : The Folios read, " other lord," " other " having 
been here substituted for Scottish to avoid giving of- 
fense to the countrymen of King James I. 
125 



Act I. So. ii. NOTES 

88. Frenchman : " Alluding to the constant assistance, or 
promise of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in 
their quarrels with the English." — Warburton. 

104. a deep glass of Khenish : Portia's criticism of the Ger- 
man, though harsh-seeming, is not lacking either in 
truth or justice when applied to the Germans of Shake- 
speare's time. It appears, from all accounts, that the 
Germans of those days were great topers, people to 
whom the drinking of alcoholic liquors was a serious 
business, a national custom, to be observed and prac- 
ticed with all due reverence and decorum. " In their 
drinking they (the Germans) use no mirth and little 
discourse, but sadly ply the businesB, sometimes crying, 
one to the other, ' seyte f rolich ! ' (be merry) ; (' trink 
aus I ' (drink out), and as, according to the proverb, 
every psalm ends in gloria, so every speech of theirs 
ends in ' Ich trinke euch ' (I drink to you)." — MoRY- 
son's Itinerary. 

116. Sibylla: The name of several prophetesses renowned in 
ancient times. Used here, however, as a proper name. 
The Cumean Sibyl is the one meant. She obtained 
from Apollo a promise that her years should be as many 
as the grains of sand she was holding in her hands. — 
Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book xiv, Fable iii. 

126. It was Bassanio : Portia's assumed indifference does not 
deceive her clever maid. Nerissa knows how grateful 
to her mistress must be the name of Bassanio, a scholar 
and soldier, after the fops and other undesirable suitors ; 
and she goes on to praise him in a tentative way, slyly 
calling her eyes foolish, lest Portia should be displeased. 

134. Four strangers : Nerissa has already mentioned six. Fur- 
ness suggests that in the old play of which Gosson 
126 



NOTES Act 1. sc. Hi. 

makes mention (see the present introduction) there were 
but four suitors, and that Shakespeare added the Eng- 
lishman and the Scotchman to please his countrymen. 
If so, he certainly did not flatter them. Collanz (Temple 
Edition) says it is " an interesting oversight on the part 
of the poet," which is probably the correct explanation. 

146 The close of this scene is in Shakespeare's early manner, 
to such doggerel Hues not being found in his latest plays. 

148. But perhaps this rhyming, as Knight suggests, grows 
out of the playfulness of the dialogue. Portia's speeches 
certainly have playfulness in them, but it is a playful- 
ness somewhat tinged with bitter sarcasm. Nor does 
the sprightliness of the dialogue, in this instance, spring 
altogether from Portia's love of humor ; it is rather a 
veil with which the dignified lady partly conceals and 
partly shadows forth her chagrin, her gifted, self-suffi- 
cient nature keeping her, in speaking of her father's 
will, from bemoaning, or sentimentalizing over, her lot. 

Scene III. 

7. may. Used here in its original meaning, can, — A. S. 
mugan, to be able ; ic tnaeg, I can. Hence "may you " 
means, " are you willing ? " since the doing of a thing, 
on the part of one who has the needful power, depends 
upon his willingness. 

20. Rialto: "The Rialto is at the farthest side of the bridge 
(of the Rialto) as you come from St. Mark, a most 
stately building, being the exchange of Venice, where 
the Venetians and the merchants doe meet twice a day." 
Coryat's Crudities (quoted in Halliwell). 

22. ships are but boards: It is plain, from the disjointed man- 
ner of Shylock's talk, that while he is uttering these 
127 



Act I. sc. lu. NOTES 

•words, his mind is fixed on some other matter. Per- 
haps in making question of Antonio's means, he wishes 
to conceal his eagerness to get into his power one whom 
he so intensely hates ; for mark how, after enumerating 
his objections to lending money to one whose means 
are in supposition, he concludes abruptly, " The man is, 
notwithstanding, sufficient." 

28. his bond : Observe the condescension in the words " the 
man," and " I think I may take his bond." 

42. publican : See St. Luke, xviii. 10-14. The publicans were 
tax-gatherers, Roman officials who certainly had no need 
to fawn in collecting tribute from the Jews, a subject 
race. The allusion is therefore not clear. It may be 
that Shakespeare used the word in the sense of " poli- 
tician," as a man dependent upon the favor of the pub- 
lic for his power, and therefore one given to fawning in 
the presence of his constituents. Or it may be that 
" publican " is used in the modern sense, for " inn- 
keeper," a class of men who were fawning enough in 
the poet's time. 

44. low simplicity : It is only natural that Shylock should re- 
gard the generosity of Antonio as " low simplicity," the 
silliness of a foolish man, one whom the money-lender 
would dislike as heartily as a miserly clothier would 
a philanthropist that distributed clothing gratis near 
his shop. 

53. forgive him : It is not necessary for a man to be a Shylock 
in order to utter, in the flood of bitter memories which 
sweeps through the mind of the Jew, this unchristian 
sentiment. 

70. Methought: The me'xa. methinks is the dative in conjunction 
with the verb: — thincan, to seem, to appear, =" it 
128 



NOTES Act I. sc. m. 

seems to me." Thought, the Imp. tense of A. S. then- 
can, to think, was easily mistaken for the past tense of 
thincan, to seem, and this illogical combination is the 
result of that false analogy. 

73. Jacob : See Genesis, chap. xxx. 

82. peel'd me : This peculiar use of the pronoun is called, in 
Latin grammar, " the ethical dative," the dative of ad- 
vantage. It is to be noticed that Shylock makes the 
case of Jacob a vindication of his own usury, and that 
he speaks of the shepherd as though he had peel'd the 
wands for the purpose of establishing a precedent for 
Shylock, and for all whose business was to be the mak- 
ing of barren metal "Dreed. Comp. our idiom : " I 
bought me a coat " ; "I got me a hat." 

87. thrift is blessing : Shylock loves the character of Jacob, 

admires his clever, shifty ways, his smooth talk, and 
especially his knack of prospering (thrift being used 
here to mean prosperity). He also venerates him as 
the type of man dear to the God of Abram, and he sets 
forth Jacob's questionable methods as models to be ex- 
tolled and even imitated. Jacob was dishonest, if you 
will, but he succeeded, and Jehovah blessed him. Shy- 
lock is guided, in every thought and action, by the Law 
— the Hebrew Law, and whatsoever fails to be conso- 
nant with that is despicable to him. 

88. served for: Shylock takes the story of Jacob literally ; An- 

tonio interprets it differently. He is a renaissance 
Christian, and between him and the Jew there is fixed a 
gulf of centuries, principles and sentiments. To Shy- 
lock, Antonio's charity is " low simplicity " ; to Antonio, 
Shylock's thrift is sinful usury. 
96. devil : See Mat. iv., 6, where the devil quotes Psalm xci. 
129 



Act I. Sc. iii. NOTES 

99. falsehood : Not merely untruth, but wickedness in general. 

103. many a time and oft: The actor Henderson, says Boadent, 
(Memoirs of Mrs. Siddons) used to pause after " time," 
as if to convey the impression that besides insulting 
him in the Rialto, Antonio had frequently done so in 
many places : but, bitterest of all, the haughty Chris- 
tian merchant had spat upon the proud Jew "in the 
Rialto," in the presence of the misbelievers, the mock- 
ers of Israel : " even there where merchants most do 
congregate " I 

106. with a patient shrug: Comp., 

/ learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, 
Heave up my shoulders when they called me dog, 
And duck as low as any barefoot friar. 

Marlowe's Jew of Malta. 
But in comparing Marlowe's lines with Shakespeare's, 
the student will do well to go beyond textual compari- 
sons. There is, in the lines above, a hypocrisy never 
found in Shylock, whose words, 

" Still have I borne it with a patient shrug J^ 
have in them, considering the abuses heaped upon him, 
the dignity of a strong man suffering dumbly. In no 
instance does Barabas reveal any such quality. 
II4.' void your rheum: Void is no longer an active verb; but 
how the word deepens the odium cast upon Shylock. 
Substitute *' Spat out " or " expectorated " and see how 
the line would be weakened. 
1 30. a breed for barren metal : In Shakespeare's time money 
was looked upon as barren, that is, it could not breed, 
like cattle, nor increase of itself like corn, wheat, etc. 
Therefore it was considered disgraceful to take interest 

130 



NOTES Act I. sc. m. 

on money. So Antonio calls the interest which Shylock 
receives " a breed," and his principal " barren metal." 

132. Who if he break: "The relative with a supplementary 
pronoun." Supply " from him," after penalty, and the 
sense will be clear. 

141. Your single bond: "Single "does not seem to be used 
here in a legal sense. There is a subtile flattery in 
these words, the humble Jew making it appear that he 
regards the unsecured bond of the great Christian mer- 
chant as all-sufificient. Besides, what need of troubling 
about other security, this being but " a merry sport " > 
Irving chuckles forth, rather than speaks, these words, 
as if to show Antonio that the monstrous condition of 
the bond is a joke on Shylock's part, and to prove his 
good-nature in the transaction, as well as to ridicule the 
idea of taking interest from one with whom he " would 
be friends." 

146. your fair flesh : " This suggests Shylock's darker, oriental 
hue." — FuRNESS. 

156. O-others : Is this spoken aside ? or is Shylock playing 

to the part of offended honesty, of outraged generosity ? 

158. He immediately afterwards remonstrates with Bassanio 
for suspecting in him a bloody desire ; tells Bassanio 
that the offer is made in friendship, and assumes an 
indifference as to whether his favor is accepted or not, 
though in his heart he is longing to have Antonio seal 
his bond. 

159. Break his day : That is, break his word, fail to redeem 

his bond or pledge. This expression is found also 
in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, I. i. 158. 
163. muttons, beefs or goats : We call the living animals 
cattle, oxen, sheep. When killed and prepared for 



Actn. sc.i. NOTES 

market, we call their flesh beef and mutton. Perhaps 
Shylock uses the Norman-French words to make more 
distinct the value of mutton, etc., as marketable articles, 
in contradistinction to human flesh. 
171. fearful: That is, causing fear. Adjectives in -able, -less, 
-ive, and -ful, have in Shakespeare an active as well as 
a passive meaning. Comp., — 

A fear Jul eye thou hast. 

King John, IV. ii. 106. 

Also, 

You have some hideous matter to deliver. 
When the courtesy of it is so fearful. 

Tw. N., I. v. 222. 



ACT II. Scene I. 

1. Notice, throughout this whole speech, how admirably the 
figures and sentiments, the somewhat naive boasting 
and the spirit of romantic chivalry, are suited to the 
character of this child of the sun. 

7. reddest : " To understand how the tawny prince, whose 
savage dignity is very well supported, means to recom- 
mend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered 
that red blood is a traditionary sign of courage. Thus 
Macbeth calls one of his frighted soldiers ' a lily-livered 
boy ; ' again, in this play, cowards are said to have 
livers white as milk ; and an effeminate and timorous 
man is termed a milksop." — Sam. Johnson. 

9. fear'd : Made afraid. This interchange of transitive and 
intransitive verbs is common in English writers from 
the earliest times, Comp., — 

132 



NOTES ^otn- sc.i. 

To you I am bound for life and education : 
My life and education both do learn me 
How to respect you. 

Oth., I. iii. 183. 
Also, 

Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they., 

Might in the palace perish Margaret. 

Henry VI. (Part II.), III. ii. 100. 

25. Sophy: A title given to the Emperor of Persia. The 

original signification of the word was " wise," " learned." 

26. Sultan Solyman : Probably a reference to Solyman the 

Magnificent. For an account of this ruler see En- 
cyclopaedia Britannica, under " Turkey." 

3a. Hercules and Lichas : Lichas was the servant of Hercules, 
who brought him the poisoned shirt from Deianira. 
See the story in Ovid's Metamorphose, Book ix., 142- 
175 (Bohn Library). Notice therein that Hercules, in 
dying, recounts his brave deeds, and bitterly asks 
whether his life, so great and so rich in wonderful 
exploits, has been preserved for an end so unworthy. 
Ovid appears to have been a favorite with Shakespeare, 
as he has been with a great number of poets and painters 
from the thirteenth century, when his works became gen- 
erally known, almost to the present time. There is, 
indeed, no single author of antiquity whose works have 
furnished so many subjects to poets, painters and 
sculptors as the writings of Ovid. 

47. blest or cursed'st : Most blessed, etc. Wherever brevity 
was required, or wherever a metrical exigency com- 
pelled, Shakespeare never hesitated to sacrifice the 
rules of grammar to force, directness, or beauty of 
phrase. To insist too much upon ellipsisi or to explain 

»33 



Act n. sc. a. NOTES 

every irregularity of Shakespeare's language on gram- 
matical grounds, is frequently apt to be misleading, and 
rarely profitable or entirely satisfactory. 

Scene II. 

a. The fiend : Among the peasantry of some countries in 
Europe, there is a belief that every one is accompanied 
by two spirits, a guardian angel, who stands on the 
right hand, and a fiend, who stands on the left, the one 
tempting to evil, the other exhorting to virtue. 

7. take heed, etc. : The smack of legal phrase in Launcelot's 
good angel is very amusing. With its tautologies, its 
involutions, and its many opportunities for tangling 
thought in the web of speech, the language of the law- 
courts would naturally attract Launcelot, who delights 
in the juggling of words and ideas. 

g. scorn running with thy heels : The literal sense of " scorn " 
is "dirt," "filth," and "scorning with the heels" may 
mean " avoiding with contempt," figuratively, " to throw 
mud on," as the heels of a man or a horse on something 
from which they run. In any case, the meaning is, 
" to spurn," " to kick." 

12. for the heavens : That is, " for heaven's sake." Launce- 
lot lives too much in the sunshine of life to entertain 
any consistent metaphysical devils, and hence his fiend 
is a very human devil, that calls upon him, with humor- 
ous incongruity, in the name of heaven. 

37. high-gravel-blind : Launcelot's coinage for the superlative 

of sand-blind. (See gloss.) Like all punsters, he 

38. is continually making a verbal freak of every word 
which lends itself to the occasion. And even when a 
word affords little or no chance for a quibble, his spirit 

134 



NOTES Actn. Sen. 

of parody turns it into something ludicrous, so that it 
may be mischievousness, rather than ignorance, which 
gives rise to such blunders as " incarnal " for incarnate ; 
"confusions" for conclusions; "fruitify" for fructify, 
" impertinent " for pertinent, etc. 

65. The Sisters Three : The three Fates. The Christian 
world being acquainted with them through the study of 
the classics, they would appear as mere " branches of 
learning " to one like Launcelot, whose mind seems to 
be filled with a farrago of intellectual trifles, probably 
picked out of the conversations of his superiors, 

71. father: At one time it was the custom to address all old 
people as " father " or " mother." Hence old Gobbo 
does not take Launcelot's " father " in its proper 
application. 

81. Launcelot kneels: A piece of stage "business." Having 
Launcelot's back to him, the old man feels his long 
hair and mistakes it for a beard. 

116. far as God has any ground : Which in Venice would not 
be very far, for, according to an Irish traveler, " most 
of the ground there is water." 

128. rich Jew's man : One may be a boy in England, but for 
all that, as a servant he is somebody's " man." 

131. infection: For " incUnation." The old gentleman is put- 
ting his best foot forward in his son's interest, and 
thinks that the occasion calls for big words. A little 
later he uses " defect " for " effect." 

165. which doth offer, etc. : That is, if any man in Italy have 
a fairer table, which (on account of its good promise) 
doth offer to swear (doth afford ground for swearing) I 
shall have good fortune. In palmistry, or chiromancy, 
the palm of the hand is called " the table." " The hne 

^35 



Act n. Sc. r. 



NOTES 



of life" is the line which runs upward round the 
base of the thumb. Launcelot is so elated by his suc- 
cess that he reads in the lines of his hand all sorts of 
good fortune and future success. 

187. You have obtain'd it : A characteristic touch of impulsive 
generosity. Bassanio does not stop to ask whether the 
nature of the suit will permit of his gratifying the suitor, 
but with his usual unreflecting goodheartedness, he 
pledges himself beforehand. 

204. hood mine eyes : It was once customary for people to 
wear their hats at table, and to remove them only while 
grace was being said. 

213. your boldest suit of mirth: In order that the pleasure of 
stealing the Jew's daughter may be heightened. 

Scene III. 

5. soon at supper : About supper time. 

20. thy loving wife : An extremely simple way of resolving 

her doubts. 

Scene IV. 

5. spoke us yet of torch-bearers : Bespoken, or arranged for, 

torch-bearers. 
23. of a torch-bearer : In Shakespeare's time " of "was loosely 

used for " about," " by," " with," etc. 

Scene V. 

3. What, etc. : Exclamations of impatience 

18. to night: Last night, as in Julius Caesar, III, iii, I 

21. So do I his: There is a grim humor in Shylock's play 

upon Launcelot's blunder, and also, perhaps, a dim pre- 
figurement of events to come, 
136 



NOTES Act n. sc. vu. 

24. fell-a-bleeding : To have one's nose fall a-bleeding was 

accounted " a bad sign" by the superstitious. 

25. Black Monday : Easter Monday, called black Monday be- 

cause on this day, in the reign of King Edward III., the 
cold was so intense that many English soldiers perished 
of it, as they lay before the city of Paris, which they 
were besieging. See Stowe's Chronicles. 

30. wry-neck'd fife : The player, not the instrument : wry- 
necked, because in playing this instrument the neck is 
somewhat twisted. 

36: Jacob's staff : see Hebrews xi. 21. 

43. a Jewess* eye : At one time in the history of England, the 
king and nobles extorted money from the Jews by 
threatening them with the loss of sight and other terri- 
ble mutilations : hence " worth a Jew's eye " became a 
proverbial expression for something of great value. 

Scene VI. 

5. Venus' pigeons : According to the fancy of the ancients, 
Venus, the goddess of love, rode in a chariot drawn by 
doves. 

51. A Gentile: A very questionable compliment, under the 
circumstances, to the Gentile. 

Scene VII. 

40. this shrine : Devout persons, in olden times, often went on 
pilgrimages to the shrines of favorite saints. 

51. To rib her cerecloth : To contain her shroud. 

56. an angel : So called because on one side of the coin there 
was a representation of Saint Michael piercing the 
dragon. 

60. Here do I choose : The choice of the golden casket is ex- 

137 



Actm. sc.L NOTES 

actly the one that we should expect so magnificent a 
barbarian to make. 

Scene VIII. 

47. turning his face : " The outline of a beautiful picture." — 
Malone. 

Scene IX. 

42. derived corruptly : It may be worthy of remark that at one 
time civic offices were legally purchasable, and the cus- 
tom of selling commissions in the army, instead of con- 
ferring them only where desei-ved, has but lately died 
out in England. 

44. should cover : Wear their hats as masters and superiors, 
who now stand bareheaded as menials or inferiors. 

81. by their wit to lose: By being overconfident in their own 
acuteness. 

89. sensible regreets : Substantial greetings ; to wit, gifts of 
rich value. 

ACT III. Scene I. 

2. lives there unchecked : The report goes uncontradicted. 

5. call the place : Salarino, being a Venetian, is not sure of 

the name of the place. " By such touches as these, 
Shakespeare keeps perpetually before us the circum- 
stance that the scene of his play is abroad." — Cowden 
Clarke. 

6. carcasses : Whoever has seen a wrecked vessel, half buried 

in the sands, her planking torn away, her over-weathered 
ribs lying naked against the sky, her masts, her rigging, 
everything that makes the life of a ship, decayed by 
time, by wind and by wave, will appreciate the force of 
the word " carcasses," as here used. 

138 



NOTES Actm. Set. 

22. cross my prayer : Mar his prayer, i.e., that the report of 
Antonio's losses may prove false. 

26. You knew : Instead of answering Salanio's conventional 
greeting, Shylock speaks of Jessica's flight as if it were 
the only news among the merchants. Doubtless it was; 
doubtless the whole town was talking of it, the Jews 
regretfully, the Christians gleefully, with many a laugh 
and jibe at Shylock's expense. Under the circum- 
stances, Salanio's greeting has in it a good deal of cool 
impudence. 

46. a prodigal : Anyone who, like Antonio, lent out money 
gratis, would certainly be a prodigal in the eyes of 
Shylock. 

60-61. I am a Jew : What scorn for Antonio there is in these 
words: what bitterness, and, withal, what dignity and 
pathos 1 

70. revenge : " To those who, like the present editors, can re- 
member Edmund Kean's delivery of this superb speech 
of wild wrath, pleading its claim to some show of jus- 
tice, there is excitement in recaUing the wonderful eyes 
flashing out their red sparkles, the body writhing from 
head to foot, the arm thrown upward as witness to the 
recorded oath of vengeance. The attitude, as the voice, 
rose to a sublime climax when these words were uttered : 
then there was a drop, both of person and tone, as he 
hissed out the closing sentence of deep concentrated 
malignity." — Cowden Clarke. 

76. " This sublime imprecation is the most eloquent plea that 
the human voice has ever dared to utter for a despised 
race." — Victor Hugo. Here it is that this Jew, made 
up, according to many people, of greed, malice and 
hatred, rises, through the greatness of his intellect, to 

139 



Act in. sc.i. NOTES 

the grandeur of a Moses. After this speech, it is im- 
possible to despise Shylock, You must either hate him 
or admire him. The petty spirits that tease this sub- 
lime justification from him become as gnats in a thun- 
der-storm when the fire of his eloquence flashes about 
them. They cannot answer him fairly. They cannot 
appreciate the truth of what he says. They can retort 
only in stupid jibes and mean insults. 

94. in her coffin : Honigman (Shakespeare Jahrbuch, vol. xvii., 
p. 222) says that this passage, instead of proving that 
Shylock's love of gain had eradicated all human affec- 
tion from his heart, proves, on the contrary, a master- 
stroke of the poet in depicting the unbridled passion of 
a volcanic nature, like Shylock's, whose violence forces 
his speech beyond the bounds of genuine feeling. 

107. I thank God : It must be remembered that Shylock's grief 
is still fresh. If •' misery loves company," then what 
sweet balm is Antonio's misfortune to the wound made 
by him and his friends in the heart of the Jew I 

114. fourscore ducats : Tubal is not a lovable man. He stands, 
as it were, with sweet wine in one hand and gall in the 
other, each of which he gives, in turn, to his country- 
man. But what force and what intensity his cunning 
alternation of good and bad lends to the dialogue. Can 
it be possible that this Jew Tubal hates the Christian as 
fiercely as his friend ? that he is anxious to have his race 
revenged, and that, with every mention of Antonio's 
loss he goads Shylock into fury by telling him of some 
new calamity brought about by his Christian enemies? 
" But Antonio is certainly undone," are his last words, 
words which wring from Shylock the terrible declara- 
tion, " I will have the heart of him." 
140 



NOTES Actm. se.ii. 

126. of Leah : " With marvellous art Shakespeare here shows 
us the betrayed and persecuted Jew, at the moment 
when he is raving at the desertion of his daughter, and 
panting for a wild revenge, as looking back upon the 
days when the fierce passions had no place in his heart." 

— FURNESS. 

135. synagogue : " In entering his synagogue, Shylock entrusts 
his hatred to the safeguard of his faith. Henceforward 
his vengeance assumes a consecrated character. His 
bloodthirstiness against the Christian becomes sacer- 
dotal. When he appears before the tribunal, his bear- 
ing is the indomitable impassiveness of a priest about 
to sacrifice an expiatory lamb to the God of Sabaoth." 

— Victor Hugo. 

Scene II. 

I. I pray you, tarry . The delicacy of Portia's nature is shown 
in this speech. She loves Bassanio, and she would tell 
him so, but her modesty restrains her. " There's some- 
thing tells me I would not lose you," she says ; and 
fearing he will think her bold, she hastens to add, — " it 
is not love " : then, thinking he will consider her devoid 
of love for him, she says, " Hate counsels not in such a 
quality." She would like to confess everything to him, 
" yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought." Still, she 
succeeds in making her feelings known, for her wish to 
have him " pause a day or two " grows into the desire 
to detain him " some month or two." 

20. yours, not yours : Though I am yours by right of love, yet 
fortune may part us. K you should prove it so by 
choosing unluckily, then let fortune go to hell for being 

141 



Act in. So. a. NOTES 

so blind : but I will not be damned by breaking my 
oath, by committing the sin of disobedience. 

20. Prove it so : If it should prove so. 

29. fear the enjoying : That is, ''iezx/or the enjoying." 

51. dulcet sounds : An allusion to the old custom of playing 
music under the windows of a bridegroom's bedroom 
on the morning of his wedding-day. 

55. Young Alcides : Young Hercules. Hesione, daughter of 
Laomedon, King of Troy, was chained to a rock in the 
sea, that she might be devoured by a sea monster, and 
so appease the wrath of Neptune and Apollo. Hercules 
undertook to save her for a reward. Hence Bassanio 
" goes with more love " than the ancient hero, arxi, in 
the eyes of Portia, with no less manly beauty. The 
story is told by Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book xi, Fable iv. 

57. I stand for sacrifice : As Hesione did. 

58. Dardanian wives : Women of Dardania, or Troy. In E. E. 

wife is frequently used for woman. Q.^. fish-wife. 
62. A song. Notice that this song cautions the lover against 
being led by fancy, the creations of which are only 
superficial things, no matter how beautiful they may 
appear. In the old novel, " II Pecorone," the maid does 
actually betray the secret of the caskets to the lover, 
and maybe Nerissa is guilty of doing the same thing in 
Bassanio's behalf. She would favor him for several 
reasons. She is devoted to Portia ; is anxious to see 
her happily married ■, considers Bassanio most worthy 
of her, and fearing that fortune might wed her dear 
mistress to some disagreeable suitor it would only be 
natural if she were led to throw out a few hints to the 
clever Bassanio. And then there is Gratiano. Nerissa 
loves him ; he returns her affection ; and their happiness 
142 



NOTES Actm. sc. ii. 

depends upon Bassanio's success. Certainly a person 
would not have to be so clever as Bassanio in order to 
profit by such a broad hint as that which tells us that 
fancy " is engendered in the eyes ; " that it is fed on 
appearance, and that it goes no farther than appearance. 
Therefore, says the song, " let's have no fancy ; no 
judging by looks. Let us ring old fancy's knell." 

73. outward shows : He has caught his cue, and is already 
determined to choose that casket to which the fancy 
would be least attracted. 

87. Valor's excrement : A beard like that of Hercules, which 
would give even the coward a formidable appearance. 

95. dowry : A satire upon the wearing of periwigs, a custom 
very common toward the close of the 16th century. 

gg. Veiling an Indian beauty : Many attempts have been 
made to explain this passage. Some propose that we 
read: 

Veiling an Indian ; beauty^ s, etc. 

Others say that it means, " concealing a black, thick- 
lipped woman," beautiful in the eyes of her countrymen ; 
hideous in ours. Is it necessary to take " beauty " so 
strictly ? May it not mean " an Indian land" that is, 
beauty of an Indian kind, which, seen from the sea, 
attracts men by its loveliness, a loveliness that is, how- 
ever, only a scarf which hides what is ugly and horrible ; 
wild beasts, venomous reptiles, and all manner of dis- 
agreeable things ? But whether it be an Indian land or 
an Indian woman, the thought is clear enough. 
102. Midas: King of Phrygia. He performed a service for 
Bacchus who, in return, gave him the choice of desir- 
ing any favor he pleased. " Cause that whatever I 
touch with my body shall be turned into yellow gold." 

143 



Act ni. sc. ii. NOTES 

Bacchus assented to his vrish, and for awhile Midas was 
happy. But his joy was soon turned to grieving, for 
his food, his bed, his clothing, and everything that he 
touched, turned into the yellow metal for which he had 
longed. 

103. pale : Sonie read " stale," but as Furness well remarks, 
" It is the drudge's overwork between man and man 
that makes him pale." 

106. paleness : Some editions give " plainess," as an emenda- 
tion, or attempted emendation, made by Warburton. 
Paleness is the better word. It agrees with meagre 
lead, whose pale, hungry appearance threatens the 
chooser with disappointment. 

112. rain thy joy : Comp., — 

— pour not too fast thy Joys on me, 

But sprinkle them so gently I may stand them. 

Law of Candy, Beaumont and Fletcher. 

188. our wishes : See note to line 62 of this scene. 

192. wish none from me : " That is, none differently from me ; 
none which I do not wish you." — Abbot. 

200. for intermission, etc. : I am no more hkely to fail to take 
advantage of (intermit) fair opportunities than you are. 
To read (with the Cambridge editors) " I loved for in- 
termission " is to make Gratiano's affection for Nerissa 
very questionable. Besides, a man does not make 
earnest love for pastime. Indeed it would seem, from 
Gratiano's own account (204-209), that there was much 
labor in his " pastime." He is a clever fellow, but 
Nerissa is more than his equal ; so we can easily under- 
stand that it required more from Gratiano than, fond 
looks and lover's sighs to win the lady, 
144 



NOTES Act in. sc. a. 

223. not to have seen : We should say, to see ; but it is doubt- 
ful whether in doing so we are superior to the Elizabe- 
thans. They generally used the complete present 
infinitive after verbs of wishing, willing, and hoping, as 
if to imply that the thing desired was already an accom- 
plished fact, something past and done, and beyond the 
power of altering. See Abbott, § 360. 

230. unless it be in mind : He is apparently well, but unless 
courage support him, he may be sick in mind, on ac- 
count of his misfortunes. 

235. royal merchant: In the middle ages, a royal merchant 
was one who conducted business in the interest of a 
sovereign. It is to this kind of merchant that the 
Duke refers in Act IV. i. 29; but in view of Antonio's 
liberality, such as he practiced toward the poor of 
Venice, and toward his friend Bassanio, may not " royal " 
here mean " kingly," in the same sense as our expres- 
sion : " He's a royaJ good fellow " ? 

274. impeach : Bring disgrace upon, by proving that equal 
rights are not recognized in Venice. It was the justice 
which Venice insured to strangers that made her com- 
merce so great, and drew such large numbers of foreign- 
ers to her shores. 

277. persuaded : What a triumph for " the dog Jew " to have 
the great Christians of Venice pleading with him for 
the life of the man that was wont to spit upon him I 

315. between you and I : " Between you and I seems to have 
been a regular Elizabethan idiom. The sound of d and t 
before me was avoided." — Abbott, § 205. Grammatic- 
ally considered, this explanation is sufficient ; but it fur- 
nishes no reason for the usage. We may safely question 
whether it was a conscious dislike for "the sound of 

MS 



Actm. sc.iu. NOTES 

d and t before me " that gave rise to this irregular use 
of the pronoun. It will be found, upon inquiry, to 
belong to that class of syntactical irregularities called by 
grammarians, anacoluthia, wherein a sentence is begun 
in one way and finished in another. This particular 
irregularity is frequent in the speech of uneducated 
people, who invariably get their cases mixed, if they be 
at all separated from the words which govern them. 
And this is also true of educated people, when they 
speak under excitement or when they are affected 
emotionally. This is precisely the case with Antonio, 
who is overwhelmed with grief, and who, instead of con- 
trolling his thoughts, is controlled by them. A good 
many so-called grammatical irregularities become quite 
explicable when studied in the light of human nature. 
Comp., — 

Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face, etc. 

I. iii. 132. 
In all hurried or unreflecting speech, in which the 
speaker begins without knowing how he is going to end, 
case-attraction is greatly responsible for errors of syntax, 
and " between you and I " is a mistake easily made, on 
account of the suggestiveness in '<you'' for the use of 
the nominative. 

Scene III. 

16. Christian intercessors : There is one admirable trait in 
Shylock, his contempt for hypocrisy or cant. At no 
time does he regret the cruelty which he contemplates, 
nor does he offer any apologies for his intended act. 
His hatred for Antonio, while it is horrible, is an in- 
146 



NOTES Act in. sc. iv. 

tensely honest hatred, and to his steadfast nature the 
prayers of all Christian intercessors are but sentimental 
exhibitions of weakness. Mercy? what mercy have 
they ever taught him, these voiders of rheum, these 
child-stealers ? They have instructed him only in vil- 
lainy, and, by the God of Hosts, he will show them how 
a Jew can take advantage of their tutoring 1 
22. I oft deliver'd : Antonio will admit no wrong in himself, 
and believes that the Jew hates him for his riches, for 
his charity and loving kindness toward the Christian, 
not for his loathing of the Jew, and his cruelty to him. 

Scene IV. 

8. prouder of the work : Portia is so used to being generous 
that her customary bounty appears to her a simple duty ; 
but to help her husband's friend is an act of which she 
may well be proud. 
30. her husband and my lord's return : The ellipsis in husband 
(husband's) is perhaps due to the fact that Gratiano and 
Bassanio are thought of as acting and thinking, in this 
matter, as one. Comp., — 

A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. 

Henry VI. (Part III), II. vi. 43. 
50. cousin's hand : Cousin was at one time used to denote 
kinship generally, not, as now, in the narrow sense of 
cousin-german. 

52. imagined speed : With the speed of imagination. Comp., — 

Thus with imagined wings our swift scene flies. 

Hen. v., III., chorus. 

53. tranect : (see glossary). "Whence did the poet get a 

knowledge of the traghetto " (the ferry)? " Coryat " (his 

147 



Act ui. sc. V. NOTES 

book " Crudities" was published in 1661: the play ap- 
peared in 1600) "is out of the question, and Vecellio, 
even if we knew that Shakespeare had read his book, 
which we do not, has not a word about the traghetto, 
so that the disbelievers in an Italian journey of Shake- 
speare cannot account for his knowledge by any other 
means than by oral communication." — Karl Elze, 
«' The supposed Travels of Shakespeare, " quoted in 
Furness' Variorum Ed. The ferry in question (so Elze 
says) was then at Fusina, at the mouth of the river 
Brenta. We need not wonder at Shakespeare's knowl- 
edge of the topography of Venice and its suburbs ; but 
his acquaintance with the details of the city is remarka- 
ble, and so faithfully painted, according to all accounts, 
as to tempt one to believe that the eyes of the master 
rested upon these scenes, and that in the rich lowlands 
under the Euganian hills, the incomparable Portia was 
created. We must not forget, however, that many of 
the books of Shakespeare's time have been lost to us, 
and that one or more of them may have described this 
ferry. If the life of Defoe were as unknown to us as 
the life of Shakespeare, who would dream that Robin- 
son Crusoe was a landsman, and that the narrator had 
never experienced any of the things which he describes ? 

Scene V. 

12. the Jew's daughter : When, in the bitterness of his grief, 
that terrible cry, " I would that my daughter were dead 
at my feet," etc., is wrung from Shylock, is it not be- 
cause he has found Jessica the faithless creature which 
in this scene she shows herself to be, a traitor to her 
148 



NOTES Act IV. sc.L 

father, to her nation, to everything that Shylock con- 
siders great and holy ? She has ceased to be his child, 
and the stolen jewels have become dearer to him than 
this foolish, butterfly daughter. Notice the change in 
Launcelot's manner of addressing her. It is wanting 
in respect, is even impertinent and familiar, and would 
not be tolerated by any woman but one, like Jessica, 
wanting in character and self-esteem. It may be that 
Launcelot is a " patch " whom nobody takes seriously ; 
perhaps, with his wonted fondness, he is playing upon 
the word; but it may also be that he is telling Jessica, 
in his peculiar way, that the making of such Christians 
as she can serve only to raise the price of pork and to 
make rashers scarce. 

6a. suited; Matched, or arranged (see gloss.); which is as much 
as to say that Launcelot's words are as well matched as 
the patches of a crazy-quilt. 

74, mean it : Strive for, aim at it. But " it " may refer to " up- 
right life," and in that case the meaning is clear. " If 
he does not mean (contemplate) an upright life, and so 
prove worthy of the earthly joys wherewith he is blessed, 
then in reason he should never come to heaven." 

81. of me : That is, in me. 

ACT IV. Scene I. 

16. make room, etc. : This speech throughout is worthy of a 
noble governor. His reference to Antonio's sad state 
has much pathos, and his appeal to the Jew's humanity 
is full of tenderness. His speech is, in every respect, a 
Christian intercession, contrasted with which the hard, 
cold answer of Shylock comes like a chill blast of 
149 



Act IV. Sc. i. NOTES 

Winter in a day of Spring. The wonderful antitheses 
of human passions in this scene are unequalled in all 
the range of literature : nation against nation ; personal 
spite and racial hate ; the law and human charity front- 
ing each other; the gentleness of mercy appealing to 
the grandeur of Justice ; the merciful spirit of Chris- 
tianity entreating pity of the inexorable descendant of 
Joshua and Job ; the despair of stricken friendship and 
the exultation of enmity ; the fires of truth and the 
lightnings of intellect which flash from the allision of 
diverse and gifted personalities — taken together, these 
make a scene unique in its combination of the humor- 
ous and the tragic, and without a fellow in perfectness 
of action and greatness of dialogue. 

49. affection, mistress of passioo : By affection is here meant 
an inherent sympathy for a thing, as the affection of a 
child for its parents. As we cannot have a passion for 
anything towards which we are not drawn by affection, 
it follows that affection is the mistress of passion. 
Comp., " Every man with his affects is born." L. L. L. 
I. i. 152. (That is, he cannot have a passion for a thing 
which it is not in his nature to like.) 

59. certain loathing ; Certain may here meanyf^r^'o', sui-e; but it 
may also mean a loathing which is as inexplicable as 
the antipathy of some people for a cat or a gaping pig, 
that is, a roast pig with a lemon in its mouth. It is 
hardly likely that Shylock would tell the Christian 
judge that he hated Antonio "for he is a Christian," or 
" because he lends out money gratis," etc. He there- 
fore declares that his loathing for Antonio is indefinable, 
is a peculiar humor which prefers a weight of carrion 
flesh to three thousand ducats. 
150 



NOTES Act IV. Set 

67. offence : In this sense it means resentment, as well as the 
injury itself. " That is, displeasure is not a hate, 
neither is our manner of making our displeasure known. 
Bassanio uses the word in the former sense, Shylock's 
reply alludes to the latter." — Clarendon, quoted in 

FURNESS. 

74. forbid — make no noise : The practice of making one verb 
to serve for two nouns, each of which requires a distinct 

75. verb, is common among Elizabethan writers. So long 
as the sense could be gathered from the context, they 
were not over-nice in their observance of grammatical 
principles. In Old English and in Middle English 
the double negative seems to have been a common 
idiom, as it is to-day in the speech of the unlettered. 
Comp., — 

He never yet no vileyne ne sayd 
In all his lyf unto no maner wight. 

Cant. Tales, 70. 
Also : 

/ do not care for no tnan^ I. 

Rom. and Juliet. 
Examples might be multiplied. We should err in con- 
sidering such forms from a narrow grammatical stand- 
point, for so regarded, they cannot be satisfactorily 
explained. There is a principle of relationship, a desire 
for concord, underlying these forms. " Not care," and 
" no man," ♦' forbid " and " no noise," are mutually at- 
tractive, and however they may outrage rules of syntax, 
they certainly serve to make the negation more explicit 
and emphatic than the single negative. So in our 
vulgar speech, " I ain't seen nobody," " I ain't done 
nothing," etc., the not having seen and the not having 



Act IV. Se.i. NOTES 

done suggesting absolute want of result = complete 
negation. Comp. also the French ne pas, as an example 
of emphatic negation. Ne (not) of itself is sufficient, 
and in Old Fr. fas is not used ; but just as in English 
we say "not a bit" etc., so in French it became the 
custom to strengthen ne (not) by adding pas (a step), 
so that to-day, ne-pas, " not a step," is the regular form 
of negation. 
X04. Bellario : Dr. Johnson criticises the bringing in of Bel- 
lario as a forced expedient : but his criticism will not 
hold. The learned Bellario is a logical unit in the 
play, has an important share in the shaping of events, 
and comes into the action quite naturally. In the 
second scene of act III., we are told that the Duke him- 
self and the magnificoes of greatest port, " have all per- 
suaded with him" (Shylock), but none can drive him 
from his envious plea. Now the Duke, and every Chris- 
tian in Venice, would be eager to deliver a fellow-Chris- 
tian from the power of a Jew, especially such a Christian 
as Antonio from such a Jew as Shylock ; and finding no 
jurist in Venice capable of resolving the case in Anto- 
nio's favor, what more natural than that the Duke, at his 
wit's end, should seek outside of Venice for an advisor ? 
Bellario is learned, evidently famous. He lives in the 
adjacent city of Padua. To him the Duke sends a mes- 
sage, acquainting him with the case ; and we assume that 
the Duke, being a man of some foresight, does not wait 
until the day before the trial to summon him, but calls 
upon him immediately after he himself, twenty mer- 
chants, and the manificoes of greatest port have failed 
to soften Antonio's stony adversary. In scene iv. of 
act III. we find Lorenzo complimenting Portia upon the 

152 



NOTES Act IV. sc.L 

manner in which she bears the absence of her lord. 
Some time, then, has passed between the close of scene 
iii. and the opening of scene iv. Portia has furnished 
Bassanio with money for his friend's deliverance ; but 
she doubts whether the money will appease the Jew 
(having in mind the words of Jessica; III. ii. 280), and 
like the Duke, she sends to her learned kinsman to see 
what may be done by law for her husband's friend, in 
case the Jew refuse to accept the money from Bassanio. 
Bellario has evidently answered her before the opening 
of scene iv. act III. ; told her that even though the money 
be refused, Antonio may be delivered from the Jew; 
and he has promised her that, if she so desires, he will 
give her all the assistance in his power. Portia's 
arrangements have been made ; and while she is deceiv- 
ing Lorenzo and the others with tales of a monastery, 
the erudite Bellario is consulting his books, and pre- 
paring a good case for his fair cousin. 

128. let justice be accused : Let justice herself be charged with 
crime for permitting you to exist. 

130. Pythagoras : A celebrated Greek philosopher who lived 
about 540-510 B.C. He believed in what is called 
metempsychosis, or the transmigration of the souls of 
men into the bodies of animals, and of animals into 
men. 

138. rail : " My father says that the prolonged, grating, guttural 
tone of contempt with which Edmund Kean dwelt on 
this word, has never left his memory." — FuRNESS. 

141. for law: Vituperation, tactful speeches and appeals to 
mercy, these are to Shylock but Christian folUes. The 
Law I nothing equals that; nothing else can be right. 
He stands upon the basal principle of his faith. For 

153 



Actjv. sc.i. NOTES 

the sake of it he will bear taunts, jeers, every form of 
ignominy which it is possible for the misbelievers to 
devise. " An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth 1 " 
That is the law ; and he has a covenant with God that 
the law shall be observed. To the Christian, Shylock's 
God is bloody, fierce and cruel ; but to the Jew, with 
his fatalistic philosophy, it is the peculiar privilege of 
Jehovah to be and do whatsoever He pleases ; and as 
the tribes on Mount Ebal accepted the terrific despotism 
set forth by Moses, and to the horrors of the dictum of 
their deity cried : " Amen, so let it be," so this grim 
child of his forefathers stands in the presence of a 
Christian world, and to the most beautiful appeal for 
mercy ever uttered, can be as cold and stony as the 
blasted top of Mount Ebal, and answer, " I crave the 
Law 1 " 

i6i. no impediment to let him lack: That is, to hinder him 
from receiving. 

185. twice blest : As an attribute to God, it is, like all divine 
virtues, blessed in its nature and in the merciful offices 
that it performs. 

199. pray for mercy: In the Lord's prayer, "forgive us our 
trespasses." When we consider that the Jews of 
Shakespeare's time had small cause, so far as Chris- 
tians were concerned, to pray for forgiveness, that the 
Jew was powerless to trespass against the Christian, 
while the Christian was constantly and wantonly tres- 
passing against the Jew, we must admit that Portia's 
reference to the Lord's Prayer is sadly out of point. 
To Shylock her reasoning is shallow, and her illustra- 
tions impertinent. " That same prayer " had never 
taught the Christians mercy toward the Jew. Besides, 

154 



NOTES Act IV. :Sc.l 

Portia's "Our Father "is not Shylock's. His deity is 
a sublime terror, a smiter of men, awful, implacable; 
and her God is to Shylock too gentle to be admirable, 
a power that deals out mercy after a manner too nearly 
resembling Antonio's Christian courtesies, for Shylock 
to worship. And so he answers with a haughty con- 
tempt for her God : " My deeds upon my head. I crave 
the law ! " 

261. 'tis iM)t in the bond : It must be remembered that Shylock 
has almost ceased to be a man : he has become an 
embodied hate, one great incarnate lust for revenge. 

280. with all my heart : " A jest like this enhances the pathos. 
Men at the point of death have a natural tendency to be- 
guile the time by playing upon words." — Clarendon. 
When Ridley and Latimer were being burned at the 
stake, Latimer cried as the flames hissed around him : 
" Play the man, Master Ridley : we shall this day light 
such a candle by God's grace in England as I trust shall 
never be put out." As the executioner was about to cut 
off the head of Sir Thomas More, the old hero moved 
his beard from the block, saying, " Pity that should be 
cut that has never committed treason." Gaunt (King 
Richard, act II. i.) plays upon his name on his death- 
bed: 

Gaunt. Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave. 
King Richard. Can sick men play so nicely with their 

names ? 
Gaunt. A^o, misery makes sport to mock itself. 

306. jot of blood : This is " the merest verbal quibble. When 
I see Antonio saved by a species of construction, accord- 
ing to which, if a man contracted to cut a slice of 
melon, he would be deprived of the benefit of his con- 

15s 



Act IV. Sc. i. NOTES 

tract unless he had stipulated, in so many words, for 
the incidental spilling of the juice, one cannot help 
recognizing, in the fiction of the immortal poet, an in- 
tensified representation of the popular faith — that the 
law regarded the letter, not the spirit." — Haynes, 
Outlines of Equity (quoted in Furness). 

367. our spirit : The Jew having been robbed of his posses- 
sions by Christian sophistry, the magnanimous Uuke 
proceeds to give Shylock an example of the superiority 
of Christian virtue over that of the Jew. 

382I half in use : That is, to hold it in trust for Shylock, to be 
given to Lorenzo after the Jew's death. Doubtless 
Antonio means to be kind, nevertheless, had he spent 
months in devising some mode of punishment that 
should be refinedly cruel, he could not have hit upon a 
better way of crushing the spirit of his enemy. That 
Antonio, the man whom he hates so fiercely, should 
become his patron and deal out his own property to 
him " for a Christian courtesy," could any sharper 
dagger be fashioned to stick in the proud Jew? And 
that Antonio, who rails against the sacred nation of 
Shylock, should propose Christianity, apostasy, to him 
— what sorrow could be more bitter, what ignominy 
more deep .' 

393. I am content: Do these words discover a weakness in 
Shylock, or are they the words of hopeless despair ? 
He has fought his fight and lost. Victory seemed cer- 
tain, but in its stead came defeat, sudden, overwhelm- 
ing ; and now the grim old man stands dazed, crushed, 
and helpless. The world has caught him upon the hip, 
and has downed him. Hatred, his strength, has been 
made impotent. " I am content," content to stagger 

156 



t! 



4 



NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 

home with a jeering mob at his heels, and to sit there 
in the blackness of his disappointment, with the venom 
meant for others embittering his every hour. 

Scene II. 

" It is worth noting how Shakespeare, in his short and 
apparently insignificant scenes, makes them serve fullest 
dramatic purpose. Here, the very first thing, Portia 
fulfills, in careful, practical, professional way, the duty 
of conveying the deed to Shylock for signature; and 
afterwards, by her desiring Gratiano to shew her clerk 
the way to the Jew's house, the opportunity for Nerissa 
to obtain her husband's ring is naturally brought about." 
— CowDEN Clarke. 

Act V. Scene I. 

4. Troylus : This passage is perhaps a reminiscence of that in 
Chaucer's Troylus and Cressid, Book V., 606. 

7. Thisbe : A beautiful lady of Babylon, whose parents were 
opposed to her marriage with Pyramus, whom she loved. 
They once arranged to meet at the tomb of Ninus, and 
while Thisbe, who had arrived first, was waiting for 
Pyramus, she saw a lioness in the act of tearing an ox 
to pieces. Terror-stricken, she fled, and in going she 
dropped her mantle, which the lioness soiled with blood. 
When Pyramus reached the meeting-place he saw the 
bloody garment, and thinking that Thisbe had been 
slain, he killed himself. Thisbe returned and found 
her lover's body, the sight of which crazed her with 
grief, and she likewise made away with herself. In 
Chaucer's Legend of Good Women, Thisbe, Dido, and 

157 



Act V. sc. i. NOTES 

Media come in succession. Compare Bottom's version 
of Pyramus and Thisbe ; Midsummer Night's Dream 
V. i. 

10. Dido : " T/iis 7ioblc queen that cleped 7vas Dido, 
That -ivhylotn was the wyf of Sitheo, 
That fai^'er was than is the brighte sonne, 
This noble toun of Carthage hath begomie. (i.e. founded). 
Chaucer, Legend of Good Women, 1004. 

Carthage was the capital of Libya, of -which the beauti- 
ful Dido was queen. Aeneas, after the war of Troy, 
landed at Carthage, saw Dido, fell in love with her, and 
in return was beloved. Aftenvards he sailed away to 
Italy, and left her in great sorrow. 
10. willow : The willow was an emblem of sorrow. Comp. 
the song of Desdemona in Othello, IV. iii. Although 
the classical Dido is never represented thuG, the present 
picture is made more beautiful by the introduction of 
the willow, for it adds a tender pathos to the description, 
and humanizes what might otherwise be a mere lifeless 
illustration from the ancients. 

14. old Aeson: The father of Jason the Argonaut, whom Media 

restored to youth by boiling him in a caldron filled 
with enchanted herbs. How natural it is that the still- 
ness of night, and the indefinite, mysterious character 
which the light of the moon gives to everything, should 
bring to Lorenzo's mind the thought of the enchantress 
and her witchery. How natural, too, that the mention 
of Media, whose departure with Jason was a classical 
elopement, should suggest to him his own flight with 
Jessica. 

15. steal : Lorenzo, as Furness remarks, might have chosen a 

T58 



NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 

happier word. " Steal " jars upon us. For the thought 
of Jessica's wrong-doing robs the scene of somewhat of 
its joyousness, Uke a dark cloud among the " patines of 
bright gold," made darker by her light-heartedness, by 
her absolute forgetfulness, in the midst of all this love- 
liness and happiness, of the old Jew who sits alone in 
his sober dwelling, crushed, reviled, and deserted. 

37. ceremoniously prepare : Notice the interchange of ideas, 
that which really proceeds from the action (ceremonious 
welcome), being given to the action itself. This figure, 
by which the relations of things are interchanged, is 
called, in rhetoric, Hypallage. Sometimes an adjective 
is used for an adverb, e. g., " He ate a hasty plate of 
soup." Sometimes the adverb takes the place of the 
adjective, as in this case: Let us ceremoniously pre- 
pare, for, let us prepare a ceremonious welcome ; and 
sometimes one noun changes position with another: 
"dare classibus austros^^ (to give the winds to the fleet), 
which should read, logically, " to give the fleet to the 
winds." 

63. Such harmony : The harmony of the spheres is figuratively 
treated in Plato's Repubhc, Book X. Comp., also, — 
Then listen I 
To the celestial siren^s harmony, 
That sit upott the nine infolded spheres. 

Milton, Arcades, 62. 
The fancy is very old : comp., — 
When the morning stars sang together. — Job, xxxviii. 

64-65. We cannot hear the immortal harmony because our 

souls are closed in by mortal garments of flesh. 
99. respect: Attention, fitness ; so that the music which Portia 

IS9 



Act V. Sc. i. NOTES 

might not notice by day seems now part of the loveli- 
ness about her, and commands attention. 

103. attended : Accompanied by fit attributes. The crow's 
song, in its place, is well enough, but heard at the same 
time with the lark's, it is a sad performance. Music 
heard by day, when other sounds break in upon us, 
is not so pleasing as when it rises in the stillness of 
night, especially a night in which the landscape wears 
the sober glory of moonlight, and when our own hearts 
are radiant with love, and our spirits are bright as the 
heavens. Music is then the harmony of nature and the 
spirit made audible. 

109. Endymion : A figure of speech with Shakespeare, as with 
all great poets, is never a mere transposition of mean- 
ing. It is a noble mode of expressing his conception ; 
nor is it ever used viith the purpose of making the 
thought clearer, for the figure is itself the thought, not 
a rhetorical aid to beauty of expression. " The moon 
sleeps with Endymion " does not mean, " the moon is 
behind a cloud." It means here that the exquisite- 
souled Portia looks upon nature with the eyes of love 
and imagination, so that, for her, everything of beauty 
takes on a beautiful personality. When the silver light 
is fleeting away, it is not to Portia a physical phenome- 
non ; it is the moon stealing to meet her beloved ; and 
when her face is hidden by the clouds, Dian sleeps with 
Endymion ; and Portia, as if the darkness and the deep 
hush held a meaning for her, bids the music cease. 

124. daylight sick : Mark the happy effect here. The moor 

has been hidden, but immediately before the entrance 

of Bassanio, Antonio and Gratiano, she sheds her light 

upon the scene, so that the night is like the day, pale, 

160 






NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 

as it were, with sickness. In this joy darkness has no 
place, and from this point on, the fair garden at Belmont 
is flooded with radiance. 

139. our house : " How delicate is this little touch of modesty 
and generosity. She has just endowed her husband 
with her property." — Cowden Clarke. 

203. much unreasonable : Muck was used in Early English to 
denote size and degree, as well as quantity. " Much and 
lite" (big and little), Chaucer, Cant. Tales, 496. Hence 
it was sometimes used by Shakespeare and his con- 
temporaries as an adverb of degree. Comp. also, — 

wonderliche deep, much and swithe strong', (wonder- 
fully deep, large, and exceedingly strong). 

Layamon, Brut. 

205. wanted the modesty : " As to have lacked the modera- 
tion" (the subject is "man"). 

217. shame and courtesy : That is, " I was beset with feelings 
of shame and appeals to my courtesy." 

233. double self : " Used in a bad sense iox,full 0/ duplicity.^* — 
Malone. 

281. inter'gatories : interrogatories. In the court of Queen's 
Bench, persons on trial are " charged upon interrogato- 
ries," and made to swear that they will answer all things 
faithfully. The play has indeed become a comedy. But 
a little while since, these persons of whom we take our 
leave to the sounds of music, light mirth, and joyous 
laughter, stood within the shadow of death. To them the 
Law was great and august, its very name to be epoken 
with fear and reverence : now it is something to make 
merry over. Portia, the sometime grave young judge^ 
plays with the musty terms of the law, and turns its 

i6z 



I 



Act V. Sc. i. NOTES 

sober language into a pleasant invitation. " The dis- 
cords are heard ho more, as we linger on the moonlit 
bank at Belmont, and seek to catch the faint echoes 
upon earth of the choral music of the spheres." — Boas, 
Shakespeare and his Predecessors, ch. x. 



162 



GLOSSARY. 



CONTRACTIONS. 



A. Adjective. 

Acc. Accusative. 

Ad. Adverb. 

A. S. Anglo-Saxon. 

Comp. Compare. 

Con. Conjunction. 

Du. Dutch. 

E. E. Early English. 

Fr. French. 

Gr. Greek. 

Inter. Interjection. 

Lat. Latin. 

Low Lat. Low Latin. 

M. E. Middle English. 



N. Noun. 

0. Fr. Old French. 

P. P. Past Participle. 

Prep. Preposition. 

Pt. Participle. 

Scan. Scandinavian. 

Sabst. Substantive. 

Swed. Swedish. 

V. Verb. 

I., II., III., IV., etc. Act. 

i., ii., iii., iv., etc. Scene. 

x> 2, 3, 4, etc. Lines. 

— , derived from. 

N. E. D. , New English Dictionary. 



A. 



Abode: (subst.) delay, Act II., sc. vi., 1. 21. This is commonly 
the sense in M. E. 

Achieved : Won, or brought to a successful issue : III. ii. 209. 
Comp., "Then began the Justs (Jousts) which was valiantlie 
atchieved by the king." — HoLINSHED, Chronicle III. 

Advice: Consideration, IV. ii. 6. Comp., That's not suddenly 
to be performed, but with advice and silent secrecy. — 
2 Henry VI., II. ii. 68. 

Andrew: A large ship, I. i, 27. So called because vessels of 
great burden were commanded by the famous naval com- 
mander, Andrea Dorea. 

An : if, I. ii. 96 ; and so throughout. 
163 



GLOSSARY 

Anon : Immediately, presently, II. ii. 123. 

Approve: Justify, III. ii. 79. Comp., I shall not fail to approve 
the fair conceit the king hath of you; Henry VIII., II. iii. 

74- 

Argosy: A merchant vessel, I. i. 9. A corruption of Ragosie, a 
ship of Ragusa. Perhaps from the Spanish " Aigos," the 
name of the famous ship in which Jason and his com- 
panions sailed in search of the golden fleece. 

Attempt : Tempt, endeavor to win over, IV. i. 420. 

Attentive : Sensitive, easily impressed or enthralled, V. i. 70. 
Literally, on the stretch ; Lat. atientus, tretched out ; 
attendere, to stretch towards, give heed to. 

B. 

Bated : (vb.) Reduced, worn out ; III. iii, 32. 

Bated: (pt.) Lowered (from fear), I. iii. 121. M. E. bate, a con- 
traction of " to beat." — O. Fr. abatre, to lower, to beat 
down. — Low Lat. abbatere, to beat, or lower, down. 

Bestowed: (pt.) II. ii. 178: Arranged, ordered. M. E. bestowen, 
to place, arrange. 

Bottom : (n.) Vessel, ship, I. i. 42. 

Beauty: (n.) False, show, III. ii. 88. Comp., 

— the harlofs cheek, 
Beautied with plastering art. 

Hamlet, III. i. 51. 

Burial: (n.) Grave, I. i. 29, M. E. burial, a grave; — A. S. bir- 

gals, a tomb. 
Baned: (pt.) Killed, destroyed, IV. i. 46. M. E. bane ; — A. S. 

bana, a slayer, destroyer. 
Behanced : Having happened, I. i. 38. The prefix is A. S., and 

implies "to make," to "bring to pass." So benumb, 
164 



GLOSSARY 

become, befall. O. Fr. chaunce ; — Lat. cadentia, that 
which falls out or happens ; — cadere, to fall. 

C. 

Cater: " Cater-cousins," II. ii. 137. Of doubtful etymology, 
Some derive it from Fr. quatre cousin (fourth cousin), 
others from Eng. cater + cousin, which would mean one 
being catered to at the same table, hence a close compan- 
ion. See N. E. D. for a full discussion of the phrase. 

Certified : Informed, assured, II. viii. 10. 

Cheer: Face, countenance. III. ii. 308. Comp., The children 
of Israel myghten not beholden into the face of ]\Iose for the 
glory of his cheere. — 2 Cor. iii., Wyck. trans. Also, 
Received her with so glad a cheere. — Cant. T., 4816. Pale 
of cheere. Mid. Night's Dr., III. ii. 96. 

Civility : Good manners, refinement, II. ii. 206. 

Close : Secretive, sheltering, II. vi. 47. 

Colchos : (properly Colchis) The modern Mingretia, a country 
lying at the east end of the Black Sea. I. i. 169. Thither 
Jason and the Argonauts went to win the golden fleece, 
which was fastened to a tree in a garden consecrated to 
Ares (Mars), and guarded by a dragon. Jason succeeded 
in securing the fleece, with the aid of Media, daughter 
of King Aaetes, whom he married, and subsequently 
deserted. 

Commends : Compliments, praise, II. ix. 90. 

Commodity : Goods, property, I. i. 176. 

Complexion : Nature, habit, III. i. 32. 

Compromised : Mutually agreed, I. iii. 79. 

Conceit: (i) (n.) Intellect, understanding, I. i. 92. This word is 
but another form of " conceive." O. Fr. concever, to 
conceive ; — Lat. con (for cum) together, or wholly, and 
16s 



GLOSSARY 

capere, to take, lay hold on. It will readily be seen how 
the ability to take hold of, or to grasp, a material thing 
with ease would come to be applied to mental capability 
or readiness of understanding. Comp., Unripe years did 
want conceit. — Pilgr. i. 51. 

Conceit : (2) (n.) Breeding,nature, extraction. Comp., / know 
you are a gentleman of good conceit. — As You Like It, 
V. ii. 59. 

Conceit : (3) Conception, III. iv. 2. 

Conceits: (4) Fanciful ideas, III. v., 61. Comp., 

' Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. 

King Richard II., II. ii. 33. 

Condition: Temperament, disposition, I. ii. 142. 

Confound: To ruin, destroy. III. ii. 272. Comp., All is con- 
founded. — Henry V., IV. v. 3. 

Constant : Steadfast, not easily moved. III. ii. 243. 

Convenient : Suitable, III. iv. 56. 

Cope : Pay, reward. — Du. koopen to buy, bargain with, IV. i. 411. 
Gower has " under the cope of heaven" ; Milton, " under the 
cope of Hell " ; Par. L., Book I., 309, and it may be that cop6 
is a noun used here as a verb : we freely caver your 
courteous palm {pains) withal. Comp., "to cover one's 
losses," that is, to be assured of indemnity. 

Counterfeit: Portrait, III. ii. 115. Comp., Much liker than 
your painted counterfeit. — Sonnet XVI. 8. 

County : " The County Palatine," I. ii. 49. Shakespeare fre- 
quently uses county for count. Palatine originally meant 
"belonging," or " pertaining to," a palace. A count pala- 
tine was a nobleman attached to the palace, or household, 
of the king. O. Fr. compte, count, equivalent to the 
166 



GLOSSARY 

English " Earle." The word originally meant " com- 
panion ; " Lat. comitem, ace. of comes, a companion. 

Cozen : To cheat, flatter ; II. ix. 38. Formed from the noun 
" cousin " ; — Fr. cousiner, " to claim kindred for advantage, 
or particular ends ; as he who, to save charges in travel- 
ling, goes from house to house, as cosin to the honour of 
every one." — Cotgrave. 

Crisped : Curled, III. ii. 92. 

D. 

Danger : Power to inflict punishment ; power to harm, IV. i. 179. 
Comp., A/ found they Dau7tger for a time a lord. 
Chaucer, Legend of Good Women, Prologue A, 160, 
M. E. daunger, absolute power; O. Fr. dangier, absolute 
authority. Littre traces the word back to O. Lat. dom- 
inarium, dominum= absolute power. In feudal times 
dangler— ■power, authority, became synonymous, in the 
minds of people harassed by a dishonest, cruel aristocracy, 
with '■'■risk" in which sense we now use it. 

Deface : Cancel, make null. III. ii. 295. 

Devised : Arranged by bequest, ordained, I. ii. 32. Comp., 

But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse, 
Of wommen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve. 
Chaucer, Legend of Good Wom., Prol. A., I. 437. 

M. E. devisen ; — O. Fr. deviser, arrange, bequeath, regulate ; 

— Low Lat. divisa, disposition of property; — dividere, to 

divide. 
Discover: Exhibit, uncover, disclose, II. vii. i. 
Doit : A coin of little value, I. iii. 136. Merely the English form 

of Dut. diiit, a doit. 

167 



GLOSSARY 1 1 



Ducat : A pkiece of money coined by a duke, I. iii. i. The Vene- 
tian ducat of Shakespeare's time was about equal in value 
to the American dollar. 

E. 

Eanlings : New-born lambs (commonly spelled yeanlings), I. iii. 80, 
Entertain: To put on, preserve, maintain, I. i. 90. Comp., 

He entertained a show so seeming just. — Rape of Lucrece, 

I. 1514. 
Envious: Malicious, full of hate. III. ii. 278. Comp., For he 

■wiste that the higheste priestis hadden take him by envy : 

that is, out of hate. Mark xv., Wyck. trans. 
Equal: Exact, just the weight, I. iii. 145. 
Ergo: Therefore, hence, II. ii. 59. Lat. ergo, therefore. 
Estate : Condition, III. ii. 232. In act I. i. 43, estate means 

"possessions," "commercial standing." The two words 

are identical, both of them being from Lat. status, literally 

a standing ; hence, condition, rank, state. 
Exclaim: Censure, accuse. III. ii. 175. Comp., Exclaim on 

death. Rape of Lucrece, I. 741. 



Fancy : Love, III. ii. 63. Shakespeare uses the word frequently 

in this sense. Comp., A niartial man to be soft /ancy^s 

slave. — Rape of Lucrece, C. 200. 
Faithless : Unbelieving, pagan (in the opprobrious Christian 

application of the word), II. iv. 37. 
Fell: Wicked, cruel, IV. i. 134. A. S. /el, cruel, fierce. 
Fill : " Fill-horse," shaft horse, II. ii. 98. The proper form is 

thill, A. S., thille, a board, piece of wood, shaft of a cart. 
Firm : Sound, which cannot be overturned, IV. i. 52. 
168 



GLOSSARY 

Fleet : (vb.) Flit, escape, III. ii. io8; IV. i. 134. 

Fond: Foolish, II. ix. 27; III. iii. 9. M. E. fontied, p.p. of 

formen, to act foolislaly. Swed.,ya«^, a fool, simpleton. 
Foot: (vb.) Kick, spurn, I. iii. 115. 
For : Because, for the reason that, I. iii. 43. Comp., — 

My foolish rival that her father likes 

Otily for his possessions are so huge. 

Two Gent, of Ver., II. iv. 175. 
Also, 

And for the morning now is something worn. 
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. 

Mid. Night's Dr., IV. i. 187. 

G. 

Gaberdine : A frock, a large cloak, I. iii. 109. Span, gaberdine, 
a coarse frock. Connected with Span, cabaza, a hooded 
cloak, and with Span, cabana, a hut, cabin, which is, in 
turn, from the Celtic caban, a tent, a cottage. As a tent 
or hut afforded protection from the elements, so the 
large cloak, or gaberdine, derived its name from the Celtic 
caban. 

Gaged: Pledged, I. i. 128. 

Garnish : Dress, apparel, II. vi. 45. 

Gear : Generally explained as " stuff," " business." " For this gear," 
i.e., for this business, or matter, I. i. no and II. ii. 174. 
A. S. gearwe, preparation, dress. Comp., for this latter 
sense, 

Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear. 

Love's Labor's Lost, V. ii. 303. 

The preparation of a warrior in the Middle Ages must 
have been attended with a good deal of " business " or 
169 



GLOSSARY 

" fuss," considering the complicated harness, tackle, and 
suits of mail in which the men of those times were im- 
prisoned. Perhaps the modern " business," in the expres- 
sion " What's all this business about ? " is an equivalent. 
One can easily imagine an Elizabethan asking " What's all 
this ' gear ' about ? " and it is also remarkable that the 
word is generally used to denote disorder, or fussy ac- 
tivity, especially that kind consequent upon elaborate 
preparation. Words like this, however, can never be sat- 
isfactorily explained; and so it is wise to content one's 
self with a feeling for its meaning, depending upon its 
context for illumination rather than seeking to guess a 
meaning into it, or to force Shakespeare's use of the 
word to conform to that of Early English writers. When 
we consider the fact that words and phrases which have 
originated within the memory of living men cannot be 
satisfactorily accounted for (e.g., " flat," an apartment ; 
" at that," a phrase which is gaining in use, and which is 
grammatically inexplicable) it becomes at once apparent 
that great care and diffidence must be exercised in the 
explanation of words of other times, especially when their 
meaning is at all nebulous, or their ideas indeterminate, 

Good: Solvent, I. iii. 12. This special meaning of the word is 
still in use. Comp., He is perfectly good, that is, trust- 
worthy, reliable, in a business sense. 

Governed : Inhabited, dwelt in, in the same sense that the spirit 
of man is said to govern the body, IV. i. 133. It was an 
old-time superstition that the spirit of sorcerers could 
inhabit the bodies of animals. 

Gramercy : (inter.) "Much obliged 1 " II. ii. 126. Fr. grand 
merci, " thanks 1 ". 

Gross: (i) The sum, the whole, I. iii. 56. 

170 



GLOSSARY 

Gross : (2) " To term in gross," to conclude, state broadly, sum 

up, III. ii. 159. 
Guarded : trimmed, decorated, II. ii. 162. Comp., In a long 

motley coat, guarded with yellow. — Henry Vlll., Prologue. 

H. 

Habit: Demeanor, behavior, II. ii. 201, 

Heaviness : Melancholy, sadness, II. viii. 52. 

High-Day : Holiday, II. ix. 98. 

High-Top : The highest yard-arm of a ship, I. i. 28. This yard- 
arm, dangling from the mast of a vessel lying on its side 
in the sands, would actually be lower, at the end, than the 
greater part of the vessel's hull. 

Hip : " To catch upon the hip," to have at an advantage, I. iii. 47. 
A figure taken from the sport of wrestling, wherein to 
catch one's adversary upon the hip is to have him in one's 
power, and to be able to throw him. 

Hovel-Post : A post supporting a hut, or small outhouse, II. ii. 70. 

Humility: Kindness, charity. III. i. 72. — Lat. humilis, lit, 
" near the ground," hence, belonging to humanity, and 
so, kindness, charity. 

Husbandry : Management, care, stewardship, III. iv. 25. 

I. 

Imagined : Imaginable, III. iv. 52. 

Impertinent : A blunder of Launcelot for pertinent, apposite, II. 

ii. 144. 
Imposition: (i) Duty, task imposed. III. iv. 33 ; (2) Unalterable 

disposition, or arrangement, I. ii. 114. Lat. impositus, lit., 

"laid on," hence, obligatory; Lat. imponere, "to lay, or 

place on." 
Incarnal : Launcelot's blunder for incarnate ; II. il 29. 
171 



GLOSSARY 

Indirectly : Directly, II. ii. 45 ; Launcelot here uses the wrong 

word willfully to confuse his father. 
Infection: Desire, II. ii. 131. 
Insculpt : Carved in relief, II. vii. 57. 
Iwis : Certainly, II. ix. 68. Erroneously taken to mean " I wis," 

— i.e., I know, but really M. E. ywis, surely, certainly ; 

A. S. gewis, certain. Coleridge, Byron, and other poets, 

have mistaken this adverb for a phrase. 

J. 

Jacks: Used contemptuously for "fellows," III. iv. 77. 

Jump : (vb.) " jump with," be hke, agree with, II. ix. 32. Comp., 
Both our inventions meet and jump in one. — Tam. of the 
Shr., I. i. 295. 

K. 

Kept : Dwelt, lived. III. iii. 19. Ultimately from A. S. ceap, — to 
traffic, bargain, and hence, to come frequently into contact 
with, and so, dwell with. This A. S. word, however, is 
said to be derived from the Lat. Comp., caudo, a huckster. 

Knapped : " Knapped ginger," ginger nibbled, or broken off, in 
small pieces ; III. i. 10. Comp. Dut. knabben, to bite or 
snap off. 

L. 

Level : (vb.) Aim, in the sense of " guess at," I. ii. 42. 

Liberal: (adj.) Free, to the point of impertinence; II. ii, 195. 
Comp. " To make too free," i.e., be impudently familiar. 

Livings: Property, possessions, III. ii. 157. Comp., where my 
land and livi^tg lies. Wint. Tale, IV. iii. 104. 

Low: Used here, perhaps, in the sense of base, I. iii. 44. 

" Humble," the definition sometimes given, fails to express 

the contempt which lurks in Shylock's words. He classes 

Antonio with the ignorant masses who, in Shakespeare's 

172 



GLOSSARY 

time, regarded the taking of interest as sinful, and he 
seems to use " low " in the sense of ignorant, foolish. 

M. 
Magnificoes : A title of respect given to Venetian gentlemen of 

of rank. III. ii. 276. — Lat. magnijicus, great, grand, 

illustrious. 
Manage : (n.) Management, III. iv, 25. 
Marry : (inter.) An abbreviation of the expression, " by Mary " 

(by our Lady), II. ii. 44. 
Mart : A contraction of market, III. i. 48. 
Martlet : A kind of swallow, a martin, II. ix. 28. 
Mean: (i) Common, base, I. ii. 7. M. E. mette, base, poor: 

The meiie and the riche. — Piers Plowman, prol. 1. 18. 

A. S. gemoene, common, general. 
Mean : (2) Between, in an intermediate state, I. ii. 8. Fr. moyen, 

mean, intermediate; Lat. medianus, niedius, middle, inter- 
mediate. 
Mere: "Mere enemy," absolute enemy. III. ii. 258. Comp., 

The mere perdition of the Turkish fleet. Oth. II. ii. 3. 
Moe : More, II. vi. 50. Frequent in Shakespeare. " The mod. E. 

more does duty for two M. E. words which were generally 

well distinguished, viz., mo and more, the former relating 

to number, the latter to size." — Skeat. 
Moiety; A little, a portion, IV. i. 26. Fr. moitie, a part, or 

half part. Shakespeare so uses it in All's Well, III. 

ii. 69. 
Mutual : General, V. i. 77. The proper sense is reciprocal ; — 

Lat. viutare, to exchange. 

N. 
Narrow : (adj.) " narrow seas," the English Channel, III. i. 4. 
Naughty : (adj.) Not mischievious merely, but good-for-nothing, 

173 



GLOSSARY 

wicked, III. ii. i8 ; III. iii. 9. Comp., IVkile he lives upon 
this naughty earth. ^Yi&^. VIII., V. i. 139. 

Nice: Fastidious, II. i. 14. 

Nominated : Expressed, stated, I. iii. 145 ; IV. i. 258. 

O. 

Obliged : Bound, pledged, II. vi., 7. 

Occasions : " to your occasions," to whatever needs may arise, 

I. i. 137. Also, " quarrelling with occasion," III. v. 52, 
which may mean, quarreling with every trifling or casual 
remark (with whatever happens to be said) or quarreling, 
i.e., arguing irrelevantly, by making remarks having no 
bearing upon the subject in hand. " Occasion " is here 
used for the subject of the conversation (that which hap- 
pens to be under discussion), and Launcelot's remarks are 
so far off the point that they may truly be said to be at 
enemity with relevancy. 

O'er-looked : Charmed, bewitched. III. ii. 15. 

Of : About, I. iii. 54 ; on, I. ii. 86 ; with, II. iv. 23. 

Offend'st : Injurest, vexest, IV. i. 139. Used in its literal sense ; 

— Lat. offendere, to hurt, injure. 
Opinion: Reputation, I. i. 91. 
Ostent : Appearance, mien, II. ii. 207. 
Outdwells : Out-lingers, outstays, II. vi. 3. 
Overname : Repeat their names, run them over, I. ii. 40. 
Overweathered : Buffeted by the elements, weather-beaten, 

II. vi. 18. 

P. 

Pageants: Spectacles, shows, I. i. 11. The word pageant ori- 
ginally meant " a movable scaffold," or portable stage on 
which the old plays called " mysteries " were represented. 
Later, the meaning was transferred to the spectacle itself. 
Lat. pagina^ a stage, platform. 

174 



GLOSSARY 

Pain: "Take pain " = care, pains, II. i. 195. As painfulness 
was frequently used in the sense of carefulness, so pain 
was used in the sense of care. 

Parcel: Lot, company, I. ii. 118. 

Parts : Duties, tasks, IV. i. 91. — IjaX. partem, ace. oi pars, a part, 
something set aside ; hence, an assigned task, or function. 

Passion: Vehement outcry, II. viii. 12. 

Patch : Fool, II. v. 46. The costume of the court-fool, or jester, 
was made of pieces or patches of divers colors, sewn 
together; and as this dress was characteristic of profes- 
sional fools, it was only natural that the distinctive pecu- 
liarity of the clown's garb should come to be used as a 
nickname for simpletons and fools in general. 

Pawned : Pledged, staked. III. v. 79. Yx. pan, a piece of cloth : 
Lat. paunus, a rag, piece of cloth. It came to be em- 
ployed in this sense because a piece of cloth, or article 
of wearing apparel, was the easiest thing to lay hands 
on, and the most convenient to carry to the pawn- 
broker's. 

Patines : The golden plate used for the blessed bread in the 
Eucharist (the Lord's Supper), V. i. 59. Some would 
read " patterns," but so commonplace a word is not in 
harmony with the beauty of the passage. It is more 
probable, as Furness suggests (Variorum Shakespeare) 
that " patines " refers to the exquisite cirrus clouds so 
often seen on calm moonlight nights, and which cause the 
heavens to seem actually inlaid with mosaics of sober 
gold. The stars on a bright moonlight night are certainly 
too pale to be compared to disks of bright gold. 

Peize : Balance, weight, hence, to draw out the time by holding 
it, as it were, in suspense. III. ii. 22. 

t*ent-house : A projecting roof, a porch, II. vi. i. O. Fr. apendre, 

175 



GLOSSARY 

to belong to, or be added to : Lat. ad, to, and pendere, 
to hang; hence, a pent-house is a structure appended to 
another, and in this sense an outhouse. 

Pied : Covered with spots, I. iii. 80. 

PilPd: " pill'd me certain wands." Peeled off the bark in 
strips, I. iii. 82. M. E. pillen, to peel. The word, how- 
ever, comes from O. Fr. piler, to plunder, and was taken 
erroneously to mean " peel," " strip." The true French 
form is peler, to strip, unskin ; Ital. pellare, to unskin ; 
Lat. pellis, the skin. 

Port: (i) Appearance, mode of living, I. i. 122. 

Port: (2) Rank, importance, III. ii. 277. 

Possessed : Informed, I. iii. 65. Comp., Possess the people in 
Messitiia how innocent she died. Much Ado, V. i. 290. 
Possess us, tell us something of kim. — Twel. Night, 
II. iii. 149. 

Post: Postman, messenger, II. ix. 100. 

Posy: A motto, short verse, V. i. 148. Contracted from poesy. 
It was, at one time, the fashion to cut mottoes on rings 
and knives, and as these mottoes were usually in verse, 
they were called " cutler's poesy." At a later day, any 
short inscription was known as " a posy." 

Power: Authority, IV. i. 103. 

Preferred: Spoken well of, recommended, II. ii. 153, 

Presence : Air, mien. III. ii. 54. Comp., Show a fair presence 
and put off these frowns. Romeo and Juliet, I. v. 75. 

Presently: Instantly, immediately, I. i. 181. 

Prest: Ready, prepared, I. i. 158. Prest, or pressed, in its 
modern sense, is a corruption of this old word " prest," 
ready. The money given to a recruit was called "prest- 
money," i.e., ready money. "To take the shilling" is, in 
England, equivalent to becoming a soldier, and as, from 
176 



GLOSSARY 

time to time, the English government had occasion to 
force its shillings or " prest-money " upon unwilling re- 
cruits, and to compel many of its subjects to enter service 
by means of the notorious " press-gang," the word press 
naturally came to be associated, in the popular mind, with 
the idea of forceful coercion. — O. Fr. prest, prompt, ready ; 

— Lat. praestare, to stand by, be ready. Comp., 

Behold the wicked bend their bows 
And make their arrows prest. 

Ps. II. 

Prevented: Anticipated, I. i. 6i. — O. ¥r. prevenir, to forestall; 

— Lat. prae, before, and venire, to go or come. 
Proper: Handsome, comely, I. ii. 77. M. E. propre, handsome. 

Comp., "propreman," Ancren Riwle, p. 196. — Yx. propre ; 

— Lat. proprius, one's own, belonging to, and hence, suit- 
able, fit, and so, comely, handsome. 

Q. 

Qualify ; Moderate, change, IV. i. 7. 

Quaint : Fine, clever, pretty. III. iv. 69. Comp., To show how 

quaint an orator you are. Hen. VI. (Part 2), III. ii. 74. 
Quaintly : Elegantly, gracefully, II. iv. 6. 
Question: (i) (vb.) Reason argue, IV. 1,69. Comp., 

Let your reasoit with your cholor question 
What tis you go about. 

Hen. VIII., I. I. 130. 

Question: (2) (n.) Discourse, debate, IV. i. 171. Comp., / wj^/ 
the duke yesterday and had much question with him. As 
You Like it. III. iv. 39. 

Quit : Remit, IV. i. 380. 

Ra 

Racked : Stretched, as on a rack, I. i. 179. 

177 



GLOSSARY 

Raise the waters: Make a storm, II. ii. 51. Comp., "Raise the 

roof ; " " raise the dead," etc. 
Reasoned : Talked with, conversed with, II. viii. 27. Comp., 

/ am not very sick, since I can reason of it. 

Cymbeline, IV. ii. 14. 

Cp., also, modern Italian raggionare, to converse, talk. 

Redoubted: Dreaded, terrible, III. ii. 88. Also used frequently 
by Shakespeare as a form of great respect. Comp., My 
most redoubted Lord, Richard II., III. iii. 198. 

Regreets : Greetings, II. ix. 89. 

Relation : " Hath full relation," i.e., is in every way applicable, 
IV. i. 247. 

Remorse: Pity, compassion, IV. i. 20. Comp., The tears of 
soft remorse, King John, IV. iii. 50. 

Repent : Regret, IV. i. 277. 

Reproach : Used by Launcelot for " approach," II. v. 20. 

Respect : " Respect upon," i.e., regard for, I. i. 74. — Fr. respect. 
— Lat. respectus, p.p. of respicere, to look upon, regard 
closely. Lat. re, again (in the sense of thoroughly), and 
spicere, to spy into. Compare this passage with W Drds- 
worth's sonnet beginning. 

The world is too much with us, late or soon. 
Getting or spending we lay waste our powers, etc. 

Respect : Attention, fitness to circumstance, V. i. 99. The music 
which Portia might not notice by day, seems now a part 
of the loveliness about her, and commands attention. 

Respective: Regardful, mindful, V. i. 156. 

Rest: "Set up my rest," equivalent to. "I am determined;" 
" I have made choice or decision," II. ii. 108. A phrase 
taken from a game of cards known as primero, wherein 
178 



GLOSSARY 

resto meant bet, or wager. To put up a bet is a quiet but 
thoroughly adequate way of expressing one's choice or 
decision. Comp., our saying, " money talks," " I'm down 
on him," etc., as picturesque declarations of preference, 
behef, or choice in any person or event. 

Rib: Shut in, inclose, II. vii. 51. 

Ripe : " ripe wants " = wants come to maturity, and therefore 
urgent, importunate, I. iii. 64, 

Riping: "Stay the very riping of the time;" riping, i.e., until 
you are fully satisfied, until your scheme bear harvest, 
II. viii. 40. 

Roads: Anchorages, I. i. 19. In the singular it means, port, 
harbor, as in V. i. 271. 

S. 

Sabbath : King, or Lord, of hosts, IV. i, 36. — Heb. tsevaoth, 
hosts, pi. of tsava, an army. 

Sad : " sad ostent," grave or sober demeanor, II. ii. 207. 

Sand-blind: Half-blind, II. ii. 37. — A. S. Sam, half, Comp., 
semi. 

Scarfed: Bedecked with flags, II. vi. 15. 

Scrubbed : Undergrown, in the sense of contemptible, insig- 
nificant, V. i. 162. "The Norwegian skrubb means a 
scrubbing-brush ; and scrubba is a name for the dwarf 
cornel tree, answering to English shrub, A. S. scrobb, 
a shrub." Skeat. Comp., " a scrub game," " scrub 
players," etc. 

Self: Same, I. i. 146. Comp., I am made 0/ that self metal 
that my sister is. Lear, I. i. 71. So in Chaucer, right 
in the self place. Cant. T., II. 706. This use of the word 
is found even as late as Dryden's time. 

Sense : Reason, V. i. 136. 

Sensible : (i) Apparent, evident, II. ix. 89. 
179 



GLOSSARY 

Sensible : (2) Touching, affecting, II. viii. 48. 

Sentences ; Sayings, opinions, I. ii. 11. — Fr. sentence, an opinion ; 

— Lat. senteiitia, a sentiment, pithy saying. 
Should : Would, I. ii. 100. 
Shows: Appearances, II. vii. 20. 
Shrewd ; Evil, causing sorrow. III. ii. 239. M. E. shrewed, bad, 

evil. Comp., For where is envy and stryf there is unstid- 

fastness and al schrewid werk (evil-doing). N. T., James 

III. 16. Wycklif trans. 
Shrive: "shrive me" i.e., "be my confessor ;"" Impose some 

penance on me," I. ii. 143. 
Single : " Your single (personal) bond," bond without securitieSi 

I. iii. 141. And see note. 
Skipping : Light, frivolous, II. ii. 197. 

Slubber: To hurry over, perform carelessly, II. viii. 39. Comp. 

Dut. slobberot, to lick or slop up, which involves the 

idea of haste ; also the saying, " A lick and a promise." 
Smug : Fine, in the sense of showy, self-important. III. i. 48. 

Comp. Dan. " Det smiikke Hon" " the fair sex." See 

Skeat, Ety. Diet. 
So: if so be, provided that. III. ii. 196. 
Sola, sola : Launcelot is mimicking the horn of a courier or 

postman, V. i. 39. 
Something: (adv.) Somewhat, I. i. 122. 
Sonties : Saints, II. ii. 47. 
Sophy : A title given to the Emperor of Persia. The original 

signification was " wise," " learned ; " Grk., So/os, wise, 

II. i. 25. 

Sore : Sorely, V. i. 288. 
Sort: (i) (vb.) Arrange, dispose, V. i. 132. 
Sort : (2) (n.) " some other sort " — " some other means," manner. 
I. ii. 114. Some editors interpret this as " lot, fortune," 
180 



GLOSSARY 

which is the radical sense of sort ; (Lat. sors, a lot, 
fortune), but it is hardly likely that Nerissa would admit 
of any other destiny or lot save the one prepared for 
Portia by her ever-virtuous father, whom Nerissa regarded 
as inspired. Comp., to teach you gamut in a briefer sort. 
Tarn, of the Shr., III. i. 67. Express yourself in a more 
comfortable sort. Coriolanus, I. iii. 2, 

Sped : Undone, II. ix. 72. 

Spend : Waste, I. i. 151. A contraction of the Low Lat. word 
dispendere, to consume, waste. 

Squandered : " squandered abroad," scattered abroad, I. iii. 22. 
Still used, says Haliwell, in Warwickshire : " His family 
are all grown up and squandered about the countty." 

Starved : Deadly (A. S. steorfan, to die), but here it probably 
means fierce, like the desire of a famished wolf for food, 
IV. i. 137. Comp., From beds of raging fire to starve in 
ice. — Par. Lost, Book II. 600. 

Stead : Help, I. iii. 7. 

Still: Always, continually, I. i. 17; I. i. 134, Comp., Thou 
still hast been the father of good news. — Ham., II. ii. 42. 
he is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow, for he is 
still just of my opinion. — Marston's Parisitaster and 
Malcontent. 

Stockish : Insensible, brutal, V. i. 81. 

Stomachs : Appetites, III. v. 45. 

Strained: Forced (in answer to Shylock's question, "On what 
compulsion must I ? "), IV. i. 183. 

Straight : Immediately, I. iii. 170 ; II. ix. i. 

Strange: Unneighborly, unfriendly, I. i. 67. 

Substance : " in the substance " = in the mass, gross weight, 
IV. i. 327. 

Suited : (i) Dressed, I. IL 79. — Fr. suite, — Lat. secta, a following. 
181 



GLOSSARY 

In Low Lat. it came to mean " a series," " a set," and 

finally a suit of clothes. 
Suited : (2) Arranged, matched, III. v. 62. 
Supposed: False, III. ii. 94. Comp., Let t/ie supposed /atries 

pinch him. Merry Wives, IV. i. 61. 
Supposition : " in supposition " = only assumed, not certain, 

being subject to all the perils of the sea, I. iii. 18. 

T. 

Table: Palm of the hand, II. ii. 165. 

Tall: Strong, large. III. i. 6. Comp., Yon tall anchoring bark. 

K. Lear, IV. vi. 18. 
Tenour: Subject, purport, IV. i. 234. M. E. ^^w^^wr, — Yr.teneur, 

" the tenor, content, stuffe, or substance of a matter." 

COTGRAVE. 

Thought : Care, anxiety, I. i. 36. Comp., Take no thought for 

the morrow. Matt. vi. 34. 
Think : Imagine, fancy, IV. i. 69. 
Thrift: (i) Prosperity, success, I. i. 173. 
Thrift: (2) Gains, profits, I. iii. 51. 
Time : Youth, I. i. 127. Comp. our sayings, " A good one in his 

time," " A beauty in her day," etc. 
Tranect : Perhaps a corruption of the French traject (Italian 

traghetto), a ferry. III. iv. 53. See note. 
Tricksy: Tricky, in our sense of the word "smart," III. v. 66. 
Truth : Honesty, fair play, IV. i. 213. 
Tucket: A flourish on a trumpet, V. i. 122. — Ital, toccata, a 

prelude (to music). 

U. 

Undervalued : " nothing undervalued," in no way inferior to, 

I. i. 163. 
Unfurnished: Unmated, wanting its fellow. III. ii. 126. 
182 



i 



GLOSSARY 

Untread : Go over again, retrace, II. vi. lO. 

Unthrift : Worthless, V. i. i6. 

Usance : Exorbitant interest for the use of money, I. iii. 46. 

Use : " in use " = to have the interest of ; perhaps to have in 
trust, though the former seems to be the more likely 
meaning, IV. i. 382. 

Uttermost : " of my uttermost," that is, " of my uttermost means,* 
I. i. 154. Adjectives as nouns are frequent in Shake- 
speare. Comp., — 

'Ti'j not enough to help theit(h\eup, 
But to support hhn after. 

Timon of Athens, I. i. 107. 
A sudden pale usurps her cheek, Venus and Adonis, 1. 589. 

V. 

Villain: " the villain Jew," i.e., contemptible Jew, II. viii. 4. This 
is the old meaning of the word : — O. Fr. vilein, base, ser- 
vile ; — Low Lat. vilianus, a serf, farm-hand ; a clown, 
paltry fellow. 

Vailing : Lowering, I. i. 28. Comp., 

Do not forever with thy veiled lids 
Seek for thy noble father in the dust. 

Ham. I. il 70. 

Vantage: Opportunity, III. ii. 175. A form of advantage. 

Varnished : Painted, II. v. -^t,- 

Vasty: Immense ; vast, II. vii. 41. 

Very: "very friends " s= true friends, III. ii. 219. Comp., He 
•was a very perfect gentil knight. — CHAUCER, Cant. Tales. 
I. 72. " Very charity := true charity, Piers Plowman, book 
XVII., 289. — O. Fr. verai, — Lat. verus., true. 

Virtue : True value, or worth, V. i. 199. 

183 



GLOSSARY 
w. 

Waft : " waft her love " i.e., beckon to her love, wave to him, V. 
i. 1 1. Waft is probably another form of wave. 

Warranty: Assurance, guarantee, I. i. 130. 

Wealth : Prosperity, welfare, V. i. 237. A form of weal, well- 
being, the suffix (th) denoting condition or state of being, 
as in health, length, mirth, strength, etc. Comp. common- 
wealth. 

Weather : " builds in the weather " i.e., in the storms, II. ix, 29. 

Where : Whereas, IV. i. 22. 

While: Time, II. i. 31. A. S. hwile, originally a noun denoting 
time. The genitive whiles occurs in I. ii. 1 47 , Whiles wg 
shut the gate" during the time that we shut, etc. We still 
say " all the while," for " all the time." 

Wroth: Sorrow, misery, II. ix. 78. 

Y. 

Younker: a young man, II. vi. 14. Dut. jonker, young lord, 
young gentleman. 



184 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



A LIST OF IMPORTANT BOOKS AND ARTICLES IN WHICH 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE IS DISCUSSED. 

t Abbott, E. A. : Shakesperian Grammar. (Macmillan.) 
t Boas : Shakespeare and his Predecessors. (Scribners.) 
t Coleridge, S. T. : Lectures on Shakespeare. (Bohn Library.) 
Cowden-Clarke, Charles : Shakespeare's Characters, chiefly 

those subordinate. 
Dowden, Edward : A Critical Study of the Mind and Art of 
Shakespeare. (Macmillan.) t Shakespeare Primer. (Mac- 
millan.) 
Elze, Karl : Notes on Elizabethan Dramatists. 
Goadby, Edwin : The England of Shakespeare. (Cassell.) 
Hales, J. W. : t Notes and Essays. Article in The Athenaeum 

for December, 1877. 
Hallam : Introduction to the Literature of Europe, vol. ii., 

chap. vi. 
Hawkins, Frederick: Shylock and other Stage Jews. The 

Theatre, 1S79. 
Hazlitt, William : Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. (Bohn.) 
Heine: Complete Works, vol. v., p. 324. 
t Jameson, Mrs. Anna : Shakespeare's Heroines, 
t Lamb, C. : Specimens of English Dramatic Criticism, 
t Lee, S. L. : The Original Shylock ; Gentleman's Magazine, 
February, 1880. 

18s 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Moulton : Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
Neil, S. : Critical Biography of Shakespeare. 
Schlegel, A. W. : Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature. 

(Bohn Library.) 
t Snider, D. J. : System of Shakespeare's Dramas ; St. Louis, 

1887, vol. i., p. 305, 
Stephen, Leslie : Articles in The Dictionary of National 

Biography. 
Swinburne, A. C. : A Study of Shakespeare, 
t Symonds, J. A. : Shakespeare's Predecessors in the English 

Drama. 
Ulrici: Shakespeare's Dramatic Art; vol. ii., p. 121. (Bohn 

Library.) 
Ward, A. W. : A History of English Dramatic Literature. 

(Macmillan.) 

DICTIONARIES. 

Webster's International, New English Dictionary, edited by D. A. 
H. Murray, Oxford. Skeat : Etymological Dictionary. 
Florio : His First Fruite ; World of Wordes. Cotgrove : 
Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues. Halli- 
well's Archaic Dictionary. 



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